Jackknifed
by ElfMaidenOfLight
Summary: Hermione investigates a noise to find Draco lounging in an empty classroom. A chance meeting that goes beyond petty hate evolves them into something neither would have expected. Does a pureblood's veins really run cleaner? Sequel up and complete.
1. Sharp

A/N- Wow, it's been a while since I posted anything on If I misspell anything, its because I'm on this weird computer that I don't know how to work spellchecker on. Deal.

Disclaimer- Don't own anything, wish I did.

Summary- A two-shot about Hermione and Draco's dislike for each other. Hermione walks in on Draco being destructive and they both get a shock. Implied Dramione at the end of chapter two. This is **only **a two-shot, nothing more.

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**Jackknifed

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**

I don't know how I'm going to get all of this done. Hermione scowled to herself, heaving her bag just a little higher up onto her shoulder. I can't believe all this work Snape gave us- utterly impossible. Rubbish, all of it.

Hermione blearily trudged down the corridor to the Entrance Hall. Not only had she finished her Potions essay at nearly one in the morning but Crookshanks had decided to wake her up some three hours after; sleep, it seemed, had been purely unattainable.

It was one of those times where her eyelids felt so heavy. Hermione leaned against the wall and let her head droop.

"Perhaps if I just stand here," She murmured to no one in particular. "I won't have to go to class." Grimacing, Hermione chastised herself for that. Not go to class? With a small smile and a sigh, she shook her head. I really need some sleep.

Looking around at the tall pained windows, Hermione's sleepy mood was not improved. It was one of those days, which, in all its grey color, seemed to be stuck at seven o'clock in the morning when it was early afternoon.

Hermione was instantly distracted from her musings by a faint rustle emanating from one of the empty classrooms along the corridor. Moving forward a few feet, she noticed one of the doors was open a fraction, just a sliver.

Idiot first years. Hermione thought scathingly. Don't they know they shouldn't be in empty classrooms? Snogging probably.

Shaking her head, Hermione closed her eyes and pushed the door of the classroom open, gently shutting it as she began to speak.

"If any of the Professors find you in here, alone, without a teacher you'll get detention! As a Prefect-" She slowly trailed off as she glanced up and into the room.

"What would a filthy little mudblood be thinking by chastising me?"

Draco Malfoy was lounging casually on a vacant desk, his legs slung over one side while his elbows propped him up, staring at the door. His bag was on the ground in the middle of the classroom, surrounded by more empty seats. With an almost languish motion he rounded his wand on her and smirked.

Oh no. Hermione went to turn to the door.

"I could easily hex you, mudblood, you know? They wouldn't even hear you scream." Malfoy tilted his chin up a fraction, his pale eyes glinting with malice. Hermione stopped and turned back around, her face livid.

"I would curse you into oblivion Granger." He continued. "Yet, I find it so disturbing to waste my good talents on the likes of you." With that, Malfoy lowered his wand to what he had been doing before being so rudely interrupted.

Pointing his wand at a desk a few rows away from him, he made a small jackknife dance and twirl on the surface of the wood. The way the varnish groaned as it was peeled away from the desk made Malfoy smile sickeningly.

So that was it then. Hermione watched him as he seemed to ignore her. He was just ditching classes in order to- what- be destructive? Pratt.

Hermione shoved her books into her already bulging bag and stalked over to where the knife was destroying the school property. She hovered over it, glancing at Malfoy who just watched her.

It was carving the Slytherine crest. How original. Hermione thought scathingly. As she glared at it, it twisted a jumped, finished with the picture and starting on something new, something else.

The blade, pure silver with an emerald green handle dipped into the table, its long blade molding scratches into elegant letters.

D-I-E. The way the handle caught in the light made Hermione sick. M-U-D-B-L-

Without another thought Hermione, near revolution, thrust her hand out to wrench away blade from table. She grasped the cold green steel and pulled. The bewitched blade frantically twisted itself in her grasp, cutting a long line across her forefinger before Hermione dropped it with a quiet gasp.

"Stupid mudblood!" Draco spat at her as he leaned off the table, striding forward and bending down to pick up the blade. Hermione clutched her bleeding finger tightly. "I would appreciate if you wouldn't get your mudblood germs all over my-" Malfoy hadn't un-enchanted the knife yet and as he reached down to pick it up it, the silver blade danced into the meat of his palm, still trying to carve out the remaining letters of 'blood'. He hissed in disgust at the tingeing pain. Hermione flicked her wand and the blade lay still within his slit palm.

"See what kind of messes you always make, Granger?"

Hermione bit her lip. Surely he was furious at her now. Why had she even reached for the knife? She watched Malfoy as he slowly rose up from his crouched position, nearly towering over her, his blonde hair glinting in the torchlight, his eyes stone cold.

"Filthy, disgusting, clumsy, intrusive mud-"

Malfoy stopped, staring down at his hand. The blade, shinning, impervious, mocked them. Both Hermione's blood and Malfoy's lay on the sharp edge of the knife, two distinct smears joined. The mixed blood seemed to infuriate Hermione but, as she looked at Malfoy, her unexplainable rage slowly died.

He was studying that smear, that mix of blood with all his attention. Hermione watched him, intently, not wanting to say anything lest it snap him out of his trance and he continue to belittle her.

Without a word, Malfoy reached down with his uncut hand and passed a finger over the blade, the smear of mixed blood staining his skin. Silently, he brought his finger to his mouth and let the bloods touch his lips.

Hermione let out a small noise, somewhere between disgust and confusion. Instantly Malfoy rounded on her, both his hands dropped and he just stared, looking dumbfounded at her, his expression blank, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe he had just done that. As if he couldn't believe he had just done that in front of her, in front of Granger.

Despite his forlorn gaze, Hermione couldn't help herself. "What, Malfoy? Surprised my blood doesn't taste like dirt? Like mud? Surprised that they taste the same, yours and mine?" Hermione's flare of bitter resentment towards Malfoy was short lived.

With a look of utter loathing and anger Malfoy raised his arm to her, the one holding the knife. With a surprised noise Hermione winced away, but the blade went flying over her shoulder, clattering against the stone wall and ricocheting off to lie among the empty desks.

Eyes wide with shock and fear Hermione clutched her bag to her and sprinted to the classroom door. As she wrenched it open, she glanced back. Malfoy was sitting awkwardly against one of the desks, his face in his hands, a part of his hair streaked with red.

* * *

First part finished, the last part up soon, I'm already half way done with it. R&R! 


	2. Innocent

A/N- Jeez, after re-reading my author's note and summary for the _last_ chapter, I found it to be a little harsh! Sorry about that! Don't really know where it came from. So, this is the last part of the story. Don't try and wriggle another chapter out of me... okay you can try... because if you try hard enough, it just might happen. There, now I've jinxed it, moo-ha-ha. I was going to wait to update until I got more reviews, but I was too anxious!

Disclaimer- Nope! Don't own a thing!

Summary- In the second installment: Hermione decides to catch up on some much deserved rest, but lets just say it won't be uneventful. Little Dramione at the end!

* * *

**Jackknifed

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**

The next day found Hermione with no more sleep and no less work.

It had started raining after yesterday when Hermione had left the nearly deserted classroom, clutching her slit finger.

Today, the rain fit perfectly with her mood. As she glanced down at her hand she grimaced. All those hours looking up potions, the parchment had continually caught on the cut, now her finger was red and slightly swollen.

Heaving a sigh, she felt the weight of her books fully rest upon her shoulders. Truly, she needed her rest. Pulling all-nighters was not a way to spend one's education. Hermione had to take a little nap, even if it was just through lunch.

Peering around, Hermione walked slowly over to a locked classroom. She pulled out her wand. "Allohamora." She murmured absently, and the lock clicked open.

Entering the room, Hermione nearly groaned with the luck of it. Sprawled out on his back upon an empty table was Malfoy, hands on his chest, staring up at the ceiling.

"So this is what you do? Just continually skip class?" Her voice, cold, didn't stir him.

That's when she realized...

He was sleeping.

Cautiously, Hermione walked over to a desk situated near the long table and sat down, dropping her bad next to the seat.

She was nearly eyelevel with him now. She watched the way Malfoy's chest rose and fell, the way he looked so un-evil, sleeping. She noticed, with a hint of amusement, a tiny blue bandage covering his palm, tied in a careful knot over his pale skin. A small stain of dried blood was visible on the cloth, as if it had bled just a little on the gauze before ebbing.

Looking down she noted the raw, redness of her own cut, un-bandaged and un-cared for.

With a sigh she rested her chin on her hands. Her heavy eyes glanced up every so often at the Slytherine on the table. One hand rested behind his silver-blonde hair, the other on his chest. In the back of her mind Hermione knew he was still dangerous.

I have to go. She thought. I can't stay here...if he wakes...

But she was sleep before she could finish her own sentence.

o.o.o.o

Hermione found herself looking down a long, dark hallway in her dreams. It was a tunnel that stretched on and on.

She wasn't alone.

Mere paces in front of her stood Malfoy, arms hanging limply by his sides, looking down and away to his right.

It was almost as if he didn't notice her, yet, Hermione was screaming at him, yelling at the top of her lungs, but she heard no sound. It was if someone's hands were pressed over her ears so tightly it made her eardrums ache, her temples pound.

Some unknown light flickered down upon the pair, glinting over Malfoy's skin, his hair creating a small ironic halo of silver.

Slowly, as if water was rushing into an open window, sound trickled back to Hermione. The pressure was pulled away from her like a vacuum, the noise now so loud to contrast the silence, it made a staggering whooshing sound. Now she could hear her own voice.

"Would it matter, Draco?" She was yelling at him, hands balled into fists. "Would it matter if my blood spilled and it turned out to be just as red as yours!? If you weren't so pure! If I wasn't so dirty! Would it matter?!"

Although these words spilled from her lips, Hermione felt bewildered at her self. What was she talking about? Why was she screaming so? Why did her heart seemingly burn inside of her chest?

In the blink of an eye Malfoy was in front of her. Hermione didn't know if she had rushed forward or if he had, but he stood there, still casting his gaze away. She hadn't seen him move.

Hermione's mouth hung slack open, her lungs full with more scathing words but she fell silent. She nearly took a step back but stopped herself when Malfoy moved suddenly. His shoulders, higher then hers, shifted and his head tilted towards her.

With dull grey eyes he watched her and pulled his hand up. That motion alone closed the gap between them, that's was how close he was. Glancing down, Hermione winced away from him.

The cut on his left hand was no longer bandaged; it dripped crimson down his pale hand, wrist, and arm before tumbling into oblivion at his feet.

With a tiny prickling feeling, Hermione rubbed her right arm gingerly. Malfoy glanced down at her and his eyes widened, become less dead. They glittered with- well, Hermione could tell it wasn't malice but she definitely couldn't place it.

Tenderly she lifted her hand up too, as if dazed. Out of the knick in her finger her blood dripped red. Her brow furrowed and she looked at Malfoy in surprise.

His hand now was smeared with inky blackness, dripping slowly, like... like mud.

_Mudblood_. Hermione whispered in her mind. Yet, how was it that her blood was red and his was not?

In a swift motion Malfoy grabbed her shimmering hand with his dark one. Pressing the cuts together. Hermione recollected how their blood had mingled on the knife, how they had mingled on Draco's lips.

It stung, their blood touching, yet it subsided as his started to run red again.

"Strange."

Hermione's head snapped up to look up at Malfoy. It was the first words he had murmured during this whole episode.

"What's strange?" Hermione was reluctant to ask.

"Your's tasted like mahogany."

Hermione took a step back, her hand still locked with his.

"Malfoy?" She looked at him and he started to dissolve, dripping into the darkness. "Draco!" She lunged forward.

o.o.o.o

"Draco!" Hermione lurched out of sleep, her folded arms jerking oddly upon the desk. With a start she sat up in the chair, her back aching with the hunched position she had been sleeping in.

The dream slowly sifted out of her mind, like sand through her loosely clutched fingers.

As her vision became less blurred from sleep, she recoiled. Malfoy, his legs slung over the table in front of her desk, was staring at her, his hands clutching the wood on either side of him, his body pitched forward towards her.

"Oh. My. God." Hermione turned scarlet and scooted back in her chair. "Malfoy, what are you doing?!"

He seemed to snap out of his trance. He ran a hand through his hair.

"What, Granger?"

Hermione eyed him strangely. "You we're watching me."

"I was actually pondering the many ways I could kill you in your sleep." He looked away from her finally and laid back down upon the table, hands under his head, legs still hanging off the side.

Hermione, still shaken, relaxed a little in the desk. At least he wasn't pointing his wand at her... yet.

"What time is it?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I'd say you've been out for an hour, Granger."

A dreadful feeling washed over Hermione. "I missed History of Magic."

Malfoy shrugged, staring up at the ceiling.

"Do you always just skyte off class in order to catch up on your beauty sleep?" Hermione meant this as an insult but it came out only jokingly.

Malfoy smirked. "You should talk, Granger, yesterday you looked like you could fall asleep standing up." Hermione ignored this.

"Well, I'm going to Potions. It's probably best you go too." Hermione slid out of the desk and bent, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She felt positively rested.

"Snape doesn't care; he _favors_ me, after all."

"Sure, Malfoy." Hermione heaved a sigh and strode to the door. As she opened it, slowly, she realized he hadn't called her 'mudblood' through the whole conversation. Eyebrows raised she turned her head slightly, Malfoy's back to her.

"Ma-Draco?" She ventured, hoping to emit confidence in her voice.

"What now, Granger?" He called, sounding more annoyed, voice icy.

"Do you know what mahogany tastes like?" Hermione felt foolish, heat rising in her cheeks.

Malfoy turned his head to her, his lips lightly parted, a look of heated shock flickered across his features.

"What?" He asked in a soft, rushing breath.

"Nothing." Hermione said quickly, stepping out into the hall and pulling the door shut with a particularly loud thump.

As she walked down the corridor, Hermione held a bit of apprehension between her shoulders. All the way to Potions she kept thinking Malfoy would be following her, demanding why she had asked such a strange question.

She arrived right before the previous class was finished.

I guess I'll just wait then. She sighed, leaning against the wall next to the door. As she pulled out her Potions book she felt something against her finger slide along the book's leather cover.

Turning her hand over, she noticed something wrapped around her slit finger. A small blue bandage was tied in a neat little knot around the cut. A droplet of dried blood, certainly not Hermione's, was embedded within the cloth.

A small, confused smile twitched over Hermione's lips.

Perhaps Draco hadn't merely been watching her sleep.

* * *

Fin

* * *

So, I just had to get that out of my system. I've had all these pent up Dramione feelings for the past…month. I don't think there will be any more to this story, I just kind of wanted a short little drabble. But! I'm one of those authors that comes back randomly after a month and updates, sooooo, check back, because you never know! 

If you review, I'll give you a cookie!!!


	3. Bow

A/N- **Kinda im-por-tantay!** I may keep updating this fic, but just in case I stop at any time, I don't want you guys to feel like 'wtf, what happens next?'. So, I'll try and make every chapter seem like it _could_ be 'the end' if it_ had_ to be- even if I end up posting a few days (or weeks) later. 

Disclaimer- HP mine nada.

Summary- Third part. In Potions class, Hermione tries to focus.

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**Jackknifed **

**

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**

Hermione sat in relative silence. Well, tried to sit in relative silence.

"We didn't see you at lunch, Hermione."

"We're you ditching? That's not like you."

"Come on, Hermione, what's up?"

"Did you have a-a a girl thingy?"

Hermione's shoulders tensed. What were they playing at? Why wouldn't they just shut up and take notes?

"Hermione?"

"Ugh, what?!" Hermione's hand slipped on her quill, a blot of ink spreading in a disturbingly wide stain across the parchment. As she turned her head around to look at Harry and Ron, the door to the classroom banged open.

Everyone swiveled around in their seats, craning their necks. Malfoy strutted in through the doorway, heading right for his seat across from hunched trio.

He glanced up at Snape, who had momentarily stopped teaching at this interruption, his eyebrow arched. Snape said nothing and continued on with his lesson.

As Malfoy slumped into his chair, Ron leaned in to Hermione, who, at the moment, was focusing very hard on her notes.

"Stupid ferret thinks he can just waltz in here."

Hermione didn't respond. She just kept staring at the parchment. Ron glared at Malfoy for a few seconds before turning back to his work.

Hermione stole a glance out of the corner of her eye at the blonde stretched out in his chair. Malfoy didn't even have anything out to take notes with; he just lounged casually. Arrogant. Hermione thought bitterly. Yet, he looked so innocent when he slept. Did he know that?

Malfoy straitened up a bit and tilted his head down, looking over at Hermione with a vacant expression of boredom. Hermione stiffened and started scribbling furiously on her paper. She could nearly hear a smirk rise to Malfoy's lips.

What's wrong with you? Hermione thought. You're acting like some flitty little first year, just give him a glare and he'll sod off.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and fixed a nasty gaze upon the boy across the row from her. Her sinister demeanor disappeared as she caught Malfoy looking at her. Her quill stopped moving for a moment, the ink blurring the word 'newt'. Malfoy's gaze moved over to her hand, to the little knotted bandage around her finger. Humorous self contempt seemed to swim behind his eyes.

"Oiy, ferret." Ron whispered from somewhere over Hermione's left shoulder. "Why don't you-

"Stop it, Ron." Hermione said, somewhat lamely. Ron just stared at her, going back to his work. Hermione looked down over her soiled parchment. Flicking her wand, all the nasty little mistakes on her paper disappeared.

She heard a small scratching noise and peered around. Malfoy had taken out his pocketknife and had started gouging little tic marks into his desk.

"We will take the remainder of class today for you all to begin your analysis essay on the potion we preformed yesterday. Three and a half feet." Snape smiled maliciously as everyone groaned and dipped their quills into their ink. Only Malfoy still sat, doing nothing.

"Hermione?" Harry asked absently a few minutes into the silence.

"Hmm?" Hermione was scribbling furiously on her paper, eager to get her home work finished.

"What happened to your finger?"

Hermione paused for a moment. "I just cut it, on accident." She raised her hand and moved it flippantly in the air before resuming her essay. Harry smiled good-naturedly and flicked his wand towards her, the little cut mending itself and the ribbon falling to the desk, untied.

"Ah." Hermione muttered.

"First ditching class, then walking about with a little paper cut un-mended, seriously Hermione." Ron held back a laugh and Hermione forced a small smile. His words troubled her a bit. Why had she left the bandage on?

"Was it bleeding at all?" Ron picked up the blue cloth an turned it over, noting the dot of amber red. It made Hermione nauseous, watching him touch Malfoy's blood, but she stayed silent, just shrugging her shoulders. She wanted to rip it out of his hands. "Well, no need for this anymore."

Hermione yanked the cloth out of his fingers. The two boys just blinked at her. "I- uh, it's just, I'll toss it." Hermione bent down to put it into her bag but, after a tense moment within herself, she tied the ribbon onto her bag's shoulder strap in a little bow.

She sat up quickly, her face flushed. Doing so, she caught Malfoy looking at her again with that same unreadable expression.

The rest of class went on without another word from either Ron or Harry, and Hermione had finished her essay a good ten minutes before class was out, so she relaxed a little. Tapping her finger on the desk, she stared blankly into space.

She was still tired, the little nap had created nothing more then a slight pause from her busy life and a burning ache to throw herself into bed and lay there for days on end.

But, as Hermione daydreamed, she felt the memory of the previous dream slowly piece itself together within her mind. She remembered how she had screamed so at Malfoy. How strange was it, now, to see him a few feet next to her as he had been a few inches from her in her imagination?

The clock above Professor Snape's desk chimed and the class stirred.

"Remember." Snape drawled. "Three and a half feet. Class dismissed."

Everyone stood, rounding towards the door.

Hermione followed Ron and Harry, who,were deeply immersed in a conversation over Quidditch, down the long row of desks and out into the hallway.

As the trio started down the corridor, Hermione stopped, feeling a tug on her shoulder. Turing round, she noticed Malfoy behind her, hand outstretched and grasping the tiny blue ribbon on her book bag, twiddling it around his fingers.

Hermione tensed, her eyes going slightly wide.

"Granger?" He noted softly, a hint of bemusement in his voice. Hermione opened her mouth, ready to explain.

Explain why she asked such an idiotic question to him before. Explain why she had walked in on him sleeping. Explain that, no matter how docile he had looked, he was still a prat.

"Oiy, ferret, leggo." Ron swatted Malfoy's hand away and grasped Hermione's shoulders, pulling her around.

Malfoy's smile dropped and he glared at Ron with loathing, but said nothing.

"He didn't do anything." Hermione whispered in a small voice. Ron looked at her.

"Good. Otherwise I would have hexed him."

Hermione watched Malfoy turn and shove his hands into his pockets, walking off down the corridor.

* * *

I know it was kinda short, but, it was another idea I had. Myabe this story will actually go some where, I hope so. I enjoy writing it!

Wow, I have alot of hits for this story! Thanks for reading guys! Maybe you could review? Pwitty plwease wif cherrys on top?


	4. Daydream

A/N- Wow, I can't believe I said, in the first chapter, 'only a two shot'. Who was I kidding? Special thanks to twitchylittleferret for the moral support (even if it wasn't intentional) and Jhoselis Broiso for giving me the idea for this next chapter.

Disclaimer- I _adore _HP, I don't _own_ it. So ha, no suing!

Summary: Later the same day, like after dinner, but with Draco, not Hermione.

* * *

Jackknifed

* * *

Draco tossed his school bag unceremoniously upon the couch in the Slytherine Common Room. With another motion he swept his hand along the table and knocked an empty goblet onto the floor. It made a dull sound and rolled on and on in a half moon circle before stopping at his feet.

He sneered at it.

He'd at anything right about now.

Three and a half feet of parchment on some stupid potions? Not on your life.

Malfoy slumped onto the couch, pushing his bag onto the floor. Two ink bottles in the bag clinked together, the small noise echoing off the stone walls, reverberating within Draco's head, which was pounding.

"Ugh." He murmured, bringing his left hand over his face and running it through his blonde hair.

Through pale eyes he watched his hand, holding it up in front of him, turning it over, almost admiring the thin pink line running from mid finger to thumb. Draco flexed his hand once, twice, a third time, still in silence.

His languish thoughts turned to the muggleborn and his hand stayed clenched in a fist.

He remembered the look she had given him as she twitched awake that afternoon. He remembered the way her hand felt when he had tied the little ribbon around her finger.

Draco's face contorted into something between rage and… and something indescribable.

"Filthy little mu-" But Draco stopped himself. Running his tongue over his bottom lip he mused over how both their blood sparkled crimson in the lamplight. His thoughts turned to the events of the morning.

o.o.o.o

Malfoy had awoken from his little nap a few minutes after Hermione had indulged in hers. Sitting up with a groan he peered around, sure he had heard something . His piercing gaze fell on Granger.

His heart felt like lead within his chest as he stared at her. Pulling out his wand he pointed it into her sleeping face. But he uttered nothing. Instead, he pushed the strands of fallen hair out of her face and then quickly retracted his wand, stowing it back in his pocket.

Peering closer he noted the way her right arm hung limply over the desk and he reached for it but stopped.

What are you doing? He thought to himself. Touching filth like that?

But despite himself he touched her finger, without really knowing why.

He could kill her, sleeping like this. And here he thought she was more clever than that. Malfoy wouldn't go sleeping in front of _Potter _or anything. He wasn't that stupid. Potter would hex him.

Then why hadn't Malfoy?

Draco puzzled over how, when his hand touched hers, his pale skin seemed white against the contrast of hers. Then he felt the little cut on her finger. Turning her hand over he blinked down at the red and swollen nick.

With a sigh he untied the blue ribbon he had wrapped around his hand. Blood had dried on it from the day before. Still, he began twisting it around Hermione's finger, ending it with a little knot.

Work finished, Malfoy leaned back against the desk, swinging his legs over. He glanced at Granger again. How different were they, from such different families, from such different lives. Yet, when all was said and done. If Granger was to bleed, her lifeblood ran just as fiery as Malfoy's.

"Strange." He said, the soft sneer in his voice dying quickly.

Hermione stirred momentarily.

"Mine tasted like ice water your's like… mahogany."

Draco didn't know why he had said it. He smiled wickedly. What people would think, seeing him looming over the muggleborn like this! It was damn near funny.

Malfoy gave a short, hoarse little laugh. At the same time he heard something faint and fleeting.

"Draco."

His head turned sharply towards Hermione, fast enough for his neck to burn. He leaned forward. What had she said?

o.o.o.o

"Oiy, get up."

Draco peered up at the figure in front of him. Another Slytherin.

"What?" He asked stupidly.

"You're not the only one who wants to sit."

"Right." Malfoy tossed a death glare at the boy and stood, retrieving his bag from the rug. Straightening, he headed for the door to the hallway, pulling his cloak on tigher about his neck.

He needed air, needed space.

He needed to find Granger and tell her to, next time, fall asleep in someone else's locked classroom.

* * *

A/n- another chapter, next one in the works! Sorry the chapters are a little short, but that's the way I would like to keep them since the story is meant to be a seriese of short little scenes. At least that means I can get them to you every other day!

About that, school started again (after a four day weekend) so, I probably won't have anything else up until friday. Please review- it's like sending me a little gold star!


	5. Here

A/N- wow! At 9 I reached 1000 hits. Aww, I feel loved.

Disclaimer- I own nothing HP. Sob.

Summary- The confrontation! Sort of.

* * *

Jackknifed

* * *

The darkening sky cast bright splashes of orange hue upon the stone walls and over the feet of many a student wandering back to their respective Common Rooms.

Malfoy, however, was born against the tide of bodies as he made his way in the opposite direction.

He stopped for a moment in the Entrance Hall, lounging casually against a stone pillar. Loitering. Watching. Waiting. Mainly to glare at a little gaggle of Ravenclaw girls and to avoid a pack of Slytherin that had just issued forth from the Great Hall.

His steely eyes lingered over their bent heads for a few fleeting moments, almost eager to join them, but as he made a motion to, he stopped, restraining himself. They weren't worthy of his presence.

He smiled to himself

Won't associate with your own kind, yet you're seeking out Granger? How pitiful of you, Draco. How pitiful.

Yet, after a few more moments of lurking in the shadows, once the flow of people had ebbed, he made his way to the Library; sure that's where he would find her.

.o.o.o.o.

Hermione huffed a little under the weight of her books as she practically fell into a chair at a table in the Library.

Stacking the four new books on top of an already hefty pile, she sat down in a comfortable position upon the bench.

Her bag, tossed unceremoniously onto the table, seemed, like her, to be hidden behind immeasurable stacks of volumes. Hermione glanced over to it, musing at the rolls of parchment spilling from it, the used, dried quills sticking out in odd angles.

Looking up from her book, she noted with a the number students around her were gradually beginning to diminish. The candles in their brackets slowly dying into puddles of wax on the tables.

Usually Hermione didn't stay this late in the Library. But, homework was homework. Wither it was due tomorrow or not.

Besides, there was a Quidditch game that Friday night. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Why wait to start History of Magic then when she would be out rooting with the best of 'em?

Smiling to herself, Hermione noted that that was a perfectly good reason to stay out late on a Tuesday night.

With a whirl and a bang, the door to the Library was shoved open and it ricocheted off the wall behind it. Madam Pince drew herself up and clucked loudly. Hermione and the few students left among the books peered around their studies.

Hermione inwardly groaned and attempted to hide herself among her homework.

Malfoy glared around the room, his tall blonde frame starkly contrasted itself from the gloom.

His eyes, alight with a strange fervor, roamed about as he cautiously stepped into the Library. It was as if the whole room went cold as he entered it, became quieter. As if the occupants were holding their breath. Waiting for him to do… something.

He spotted Hermione at once. It was unavoidable- her massive pile of literature making a kind of landmark in the sea of books.

Malfoy strode over, not his usual slinking stride, but a fast, almost uneven few steps to the table Hermione was at.

She didn't even look up from her page.

She was focused.

Focused on what, she couldn't tell, for she was just staring at the print, not daring to look up, not daring to continue studying.

A screeching sound across from Hermione noted that Draco had sat down too. Peering over her book, moving a stack of dusty volumes out of the way with an arm, she stared at him.

Malfoy wasn't looking at her, but his arms were crossed, slouched back in his chair.

Like he was bored.

Hermione raised an eyebrow in confusion. Taking one last look, she preceded to begin a new page of notes.

After a few tense moments, Hermione was beckoned out of her parchment when Malfoy gave a curt little cough. Hermione glanced up.

Draco was peering at her, not in heavy interest, but just in mild curiosity. His fingers were wrapped around his cloak sleeve and he was just looking at her.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

"Huh?"

Hermione sighed wearily, grabbing her bag and stuffing her things back into it. Obviously she wasn't going to get any more work done. Not with him here. Not with him staring at her.

Hermione looked up to see Malfoy glaring at her.

"What do you want Malfoy?"

He kept silent, a slight look of panic crossing his features before it was replaced by a small sneer.

"Well, you didn't come here to bully me, seeing as you're just sitting there. You're not here to pester Harry and Ron, seeing as they're not here. So, I ask again, Malfoy. What do you want?"

Draco stared at her for a moment in complete silence. What did he want? Draco's thoughts had disappeared to smoke. Why had he sought her out again?

"Well, I have to go to the Owlry." Hermione cut him off before he said anything. She stood, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. "Come on." Malfoy blinked in surprise.

"You think I'm going anywhere with the likes of-"

"Then why are you here, Draco? Look, I have to mail this package. You coming or not?" Her mind was racing, her heart quivering. What was she thinking? Being so frank like that!

Malfoy stared at her in utter shock, his pale face seemingly draining with color.

Hermione couldn't stand to be under his incredulous gaze any longer. She turned and started out of the Library.

.o.o.o.

Malfoy glared hard at the table in front of him.

Without giving himself a clear reason why, he stood and followed Hermione out, casting a final glare over at the Librarian.

* * *

A/N- So I guess this is a clear indication that you're never to listen to a word I say about my updating. Because, apparently, I'm always wrong.

Next one is looking like it may still be Hermione's p.o.v, but the two after that are deffinatly going to be mostly Malfoy.

Review? Please?


	6. Twine

A/N- Yeeeiii! Chapter six. I'm so excited! 

Disclaimer- Mine! All mine! Ahem. Actually, I own nothing.

Summary- Time for a nice chat.

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

Hermione felt the warm breeze of oncoming dusk brush past her cheek and flit within her hair, teasing the large waves into the air. Tipping her chin back she cast a furtive glance behind her and down the overhung walkway.

The shadows along the corridor were growing long, casting inky blackness along her path. She caught a glimpse of silver among the dark.

Malfoy, naught but ten steps behind her, thrust his chin in the air at her glance and wandered his eyes away from her.

They had been walking like that, him trailing behind, through the corridors. As if he being too close might raise suspicion among other students. He was probably right.

Hermione smiled, somewhat chastely, and turned the corner to the spiral staircase that led to the Owlry.

Draco watched her bound up the stone steps, her cloak whipping around in a snap. He paused momentarily, peering around, waiting until a small group of Hufflepuff girls turned the corner up ahead.

Tapping a finger on the stone wall, with a shake of his head, Malfoy followed her.

Hermione let her bag sit just outside the Owlry entrance. Bending down on the landing, she pulled out a small wrapped parcel covered in brown butcher paper, tied with an exceeding amount of twine. As she stood she heard Malfoy come up the steps behind her.

"I just need to send a package to my mum." Hermione's back was to Malfoy as she walked inside the tower.

"What about Potter and Weasel's ruddy little birds?" She heard him ask from behind her. It was a simple question, tinged with a small emotion that Hermione puzzled at.

Looking around, Hermione didn't know what owl to choose. Hermione cooed to a bleary eyed owl on its perch. She bent over to it and waggled a little finger amongst its feathers. It hooted softly.

"Well, Headwig is already delivering something for Harry, and I couldn't have Pig carry such a big package."

"A what?" Malfoy leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. He looked at Hermione with a smirk.

"What?"

"Weasel's Owl's named Pig?"

"Oh." Hermione blinked at him as she picked up the large barn owl, moving it to the little peg in the center of the room. "Yes, well, it's short for Pigw-"

"Oh that's priceless, really. Fitting name for Weasel. Him and his-"

"Draco." Hermione said warningly, her attention on trying to tie the package onto the owl's leg. Malfoy's smirk dropped, yet he stayed silent.

Hermione blinked her hair out of her eyes, trying to tie the final knot around the package while keeping a firm yet painless grip on the bird's legs. With a small, frustrated little noise, Hermione watched the knot slip from her fingers.

She felt Draco move around to the opposite side of the owl's perch. She glanced at him, his eyebrow raised, watching her struggle with the awkwardness of the situation.

"Here." He said simply, letting out a sigh as if he was tired of standing there. He reached down and batted her hands away, taking the package and tying it.

Hermione watched him pluck the bird up, wordlessly, and walk to the open door. With one hand he smoothed out his blonde hair as the other bent down and lofted the bird into the air.

With a small screech it fluttered higher into the darkness.

Hermione walked past him, dipping down to gather her school bag. Malfoy shoved his hands back into his pockets, leaning on the stone side of the building, his eyes closed. Hermione's gaze flickered over him.

"Malfoy?"

"Uhn?"

"Why did you come to the library?"

He snorted.

"Wanted company."

Hermione bit her lip and tried to choose her next few words very carefully. "But… your friends, er- Slytherins…"

Malfoy's eyes glinted in the dark, for the sun had now dipped down behind the Astronomy tower.

"Those 'friends' are neither the brightest nor the most enjoyable of people to associate with."

Hermione twisted a finger around the strap of her book bag. And I am? She wanted to ask, but she said nothing. Worried that it would ruin the small bit of civility they had between them.

"Well, glad you did, really." Hermione didn't look at him, but stared off across the grounds. "I hate coming up here by myself." She fiddled with the blue bow tied to her pack. "Thank you."

She could feel Malfoy tense for a good few moments.

"You're welcome." He said finally.

Hermione gave a short little laugh. "See? Mudbloods aren't that bad..."

"Don't" Malfoy said sharply, starting against the wall, a quick, sharp little movement. Hermione froze where she stood. Malfoy walked forward to the ledge she was leaning against and put his hands out on the stone, looking out to where she was gazing.

"Malfoy, you've been calling me that for years."

Draco uttered a small little chuckle but nothing else. He looked at his hand, the pink line of a scar drawing across his palm.

"Here." Hermione said, taking out her wand and pointing it towards Draco's hand. "I can mend it." But Malfoy shook his head.

"It's fine, really Granger."

Hermione sighed.

They stood like that, gazing off into the distance, for a few silent moments until Hermione gave a small gasp.

"Oh! I forgot the card."

"The what?"

"My mother's card! It's in the Common Room." Hermione's shoulders drooped. "Now I'll have to go all the way-"

"It's too late." Malfoy moved away from the wall and towards the staircase that led back down to the grounds. "We'll do it tomorrow."

"We'll do it?" Hermione asked.

But Draco had already started his decent and the night had swallowed him up, silver hair and all.

* * *

A/n- I had a lot of fun writing this! W00t! Next part already in the works!

Review! Please! Review!


	7. Liar

A/N- Sorry for the long wait, I have had and currently have a lot of homework, especially English- many, many essays! I'm in AP. 

Disclaimer- Wish I did, but I don't.

Summary- Two days/scenes crammed into one. The first is short and not really detailed but the second is. Hermione again. Lots of dialogue!

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

It happened again the next evening, when Hermione had been mulling about in the Library, the birthday card in her bag, putting her used books back on the shelf.

She looked up and around to see Malfoy sitting at one of the long oak tables. She puzzled over him for a moment. He glanced up at her through silvery lashes, but his face remained utterly blank.

Hermione still didn't understand why he was so keen on meeting up with her for a second time. It wasn't like their attitudes towards each other changed at all during classes. He would still sneer in her general direction; she would still attempt to ignore it.

But there he was again, lounging next to a sizable stack of Witch Weekly magazines, staring off into space.

Hermione pulled away from the book shelves.

"Here again?"

Malfoy blinked up at her, a small sneer on his lips.

"I don't have to be."

Hermione stared at him. It wasn't as if she was asking him to go up to the Owlry with her. But she just sighed, not wishing to start another row.

"I didn't mean that, I was just surprised, that's all."

But it was a lie. She knew it all along, really, deep down, that he would be there. Hermione didn't know if she was pleased at this little bit of knowledge or appalled, but there it was.

In fact, Hermione had to practically pry Ron and Harry off of her in order to get down to the Library alone. It was all she could do, really.

"_Why not use Headwig this time, Hermione?"_ Harry had asked her hopefully, that gleam of innocent eagerness flecking his voice and bright green eyes.

"_Oh I couldn't"_ Hermione had hissed. _"She just got in from such a long flight, really, it's all right- really. I don't mind going alone."_

She didn't dare to even look at Ron…

"What are you gawking at?" Draco drawled.

Hermione's eyes grew wide and focused more acutely on Malfoy. She was snapped out of her memory in an instant.

"What? Oh. Sorry."

Malfoy looked at her funny, pushing back his chair and standing up. He raised an eyebrow as if to say; 'after you'. Hermione gave a swift nod of her head and walked past him out of the Library; he following a few moments after.

That night had passed similar to the last, Hermione awkwardly trying to coax the owls into submission with Draco having to do it for her. In the end, he left again, right after the barn owl was out of sight.

Hermione watched him go, biting her lip, wondering.

Nearly eleven o'clock that evening and she was still awake. 

Sitting in front of the fire, Crookshanks in her lap, the boys asleep in the armchairs, Hermione realized that she had nothing else to send the next night.

No reason to go to the Owlry at all.

In a kind of frantic, half-hearted gesture, Hermione tried to create some kind of excuse. Perhaps she could have forgotten something else she needed to owl? But she gave up without putting quill to parchment.

Laying alone in bed that night, curled up around her crimson covers, Hermione puzzling over her and Malfoy's strange acquaintance. After years of his maltreatment of her, Harry, Ron, and basically everyone at Hogwarts, she couldn't really call their cockeyed Owlry- ritual of only twice 'friendship'.

Not that. Not now. Not so soon. Not yet, anyway…

.o.o.o.o.

"Shove off, Malfoy." Ron sneered across the Potion's table, reacting to the Slytherin's private, yet very audible, conversation. The blond cocked a smirk.

"Well, well, Weasel, it _is_ true what they say about your father, isn't it?"

"Just leave us alone and go back to your brain-dead cronies, alright?"

Hermione squirmed in her seat, trying to focus on the page in front of her. It was terribly disconcerting to have Ron leaning over her work in order to 'bother' Malfoy.

"Watch your mouth Weasel." Draco hissed in his thin-as-ice voice, eyes narrowed into small slits.

Ron backed down quickly, the wind out of him in a split second. Hermione watched, out of the corner of her eye, as he threw his quill onto the parchment and looked very angrily at it.

Hermione wanted to turn, put a hand on his arm, tell him to ignore the prat. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't know why.

Instead she stole a glance at Malfoy.

He was still sneering, but as her gaze fell on him, it broke. Piece by piece the malicious glint in his eye went from a terrible flame to a mere smolder within crystal blue.

His eyes bore into hers. Not in a way that they use to, the way they had made Hermione felt like crawling under her desk or like she wanted to curse him. But it was an intense look, and it made Hermione all the more happy that class was dismissed a few minutes after.

.o.o.o.o.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione huddled close to the double doors in the Entrance Hall. Both boys hooking their broomsticks over their shoulders, looking quizzically over at Hermione.

"You should come, Hermione." Harry goaded gently. "It'll be good for you to get away from those books for a while, right Ron?" The other simply nodded.

Hermione twisted the blue ribbon on her bag absently, mulling the idea over. Ron watched her hand with a blank expression. Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, I can't. Have that essay, all right? History of Magic." Her voice sounded too eager. She coughed and pitched it low. "Besides, you two should already be out there, practicing; you don't want to lose tomorrow."

Silence.

Ron nodded eventually, slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, come on Harry." He turned and strode out into the warm autumn evening, not looking back. Hermione glanced quizzically at Harry.

"What's wrong with him?"

Harry shrugged. "I'll see you later, Hermione."

He turned and followed Ron, looking back with a smile and waving. Hermione gave a soft smile and returned the gesture.

Hermione leaned against the stone column inside the Hall, lingering a few seconds after both boys had left. She smoothed out her robes and tapped the toe of her shoe onto the stone

Running an unsteady hand through her hair, she tried to grasp at the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The unraveling feeling. The... the...

Startled, Hermione felt a tug on her shoulder. Wheeling around, she caught Malfoy, his finger hooked in the blue ribbon on her book bog, tugging gently. His clear eyes lingered over her, blond strands falling into his face.

"Liar." He said scathingly, however, there was a stain of admiration in his voice.

"What?" Hermione asked blankly, looking around to see if anyone was watching them.

"You finished that essay yesterday, Granger. You lied."

Hermione flushed. He had seen the parchment in the Library the day before.

"Well, I-" She started, unsure of what she was going to say. Malfoy smiled.

"Owlry?"

"Oh… right. Er- Malfoy. I don't have anything to send. I- sorry."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? What if I did?"

"You have a Owl, don't you?" Hermione's eyes squinted in a small grin, mostly to herself, as they started to walk in the opposite direction from the Great Hall; Draco with her.

He didn't answer her question. Hermione really hadn't expected him to anyway.

Almost to the spiral steps to the tower and someone called out Draco's name. He turned around and pushed Hermione, gently, over to her right, shielding her with a large stone statue.

"What is it?" He asked, almost defiantly. Hermione could hear the near savage tone in his voice, so close to where she was standing.

"Practice, eh?"

"Potter and the Weasel's teams' got it."

"Not for long." Said another voice, eager and greasy like.

Malfoy snorted.

"What, Draco, aren't you coming to practice? Big match ta'morrow, eh? Want'a put those Gryffindor's in their place."

"Telling them to shove off the pitch isn't going to 'put them in their place'." Draco laughed at the group of- well, Hermione could hear at least three voices, but it was most likely the whole team towering over him.

Someone sneered, audibly. "Fine then, _Malfoy._ Just don't blame us or throw a fit if we lose. Not _our_ fault someone's been ditching practice the last few days."

"One day."

"Two, now. Come on, boys."

Malfoy watched them go, a hand on his hip, brooding.

After a few moments, Hermione reached out and touched his shoulder. Draco snapped his head to her.

"You okay, Draco?" Hermione watched him.

"Fine." He said flatly, starting up the stairs.

"But _shouldn't_ you go to practice?" Hermione questioned, following.

"You too, Granger?" There was a hint of controlled laughter in his voice. Hermione just shook her head and followed.

She let her bag drop on the stone landing once they reached the outside the tower. Sinking down to the ground, she felt the warm breeze, wet and saturated with dusk, brush past her. Draco sat opposite her, folding his legs under him, leaning his head back against the stone.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"You don't get to relax much, do you?"

Malfoy looked at Hermione out of one eye.

"Why do you say that?" He asked suspiciously.

Hermione shrugged. "It's just, between Quidditch, school, and plotting evil- it doesn't look like you just get to…" She gestured at him. "Do that often.

Malfoy grinned and shrugged simply, giving into the fact that she was correct in her assumption.

"Why do you think I should go to practice, Granger?"

Hermione blinked at him, brow furrowed.

"Think your boyfriends are going to beat me bloody? Think I need to strengthen up a bit before they have their go at me?"

"Just because you're sore from getting told off by your teammates does not mean that it should be taken out on me. We're not up here to fight, we're here to talk. Seeing as you don't get that often with your 'friends'. And, for your information, neither Harry nor Ron is my 'boyfriend'."

Malfoy simply shrugged, leaning his head back against the stone.

"Do you know what I love about Quidditch?" Hermione started.

Malfoy snorted. "Obviously not the flying bit, you can't hardly stay on a broom."

She ignored him.

"The fact that, when your watching, in the stands, you know? Anything could happen, at any moment. One second you could be peacefully watching the match, then, suddenly, out of no where, a Chaser could whiz by your head. It's so exciting and unpredictable."

Draco stared at her. "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." Hermione blushed, but smiled. "And since when did you like the 'unpredictable'?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Malfoy, we've known each other for how many years? And how many of them have been used to annoy me? It's not like you know much about me."

"You're not unpredictable."

"Oh yeah?" Hermione leaned forward, a smirk on her lips, a near mirror or Malfoy's signature sneer.

Malfoy took one look at her and choked back a smirk. Letting his head fall back, he started laughing. Hermione's grin grew. It was so unguarded, that laugh, as if it grew from deep within his chest and expelled into the night just for her little joke. She had never heard him laugh like that.

"Fine! Fine, Granger! You can be unpredictable if you want!" He shook his head, amazed at her.

Their conversation lapsed into generalized chit chat after that. They spoke of nearly anything they could think of, that bit of laughter being the catalyst they needed in order to become mildly comfortable with each other.

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had spoken at such a length with someone without there being an interjection of 'can you do my homework?' or 'hey Hermione, watch what I can do to Crookshanks'.

She could tell Malfoy felt the same, having found someone who could hold a rather intelligent conversation.

It had grown dark, Malfoy conjuring a lantern to illuminate their stone landing. Hermione tied her cloak around her, the first chill of night upon her.

"I should go." Draco said finally, after a long paused moment.

"Hmm?" Hermione opened her eyes to look at him.

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and smiled. "Big match tomorrow."

"Right."

"You going?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss seeing Slytherin get the stuffing beat out of them by Gryffindor."

"Really think you'll win?" He stood, brushing off his robes and witching away the lights. His eyes focused hard on her.

"Without a doubt."

Malfoy smirked and started down the staircase.

"Good luck."

Malfoy turned, half way down the third step.

"What?"

Hermione walked up to the edge of the stone steps.

"I won't see you, obviously, so… good luck."

Draco shook his head.

"Thanks, Granger."

And he disappeared into the dark below.

* * *

A/N- Wow, sorry it's been so long since I updated. I have a lot of work, but I really love this story, so I'm still writing it! Next chapter Malfoy for sure! More chapters planned!

Review! Review! Review!


	8. Distracting

A/N- Don't know why my last chapter has a **bold** sentence in the beginning! does some straaaaannngggeee things sometimes…

Disclaimer: I own nothing 'cept my own cleverness.

Summary: Quidditch! (I really love the way my summaries don't really give a summary at all- ha!)

* * *

**Jackknifed**

* * *

Draco let his head fall against the wooden wall inside the Quidditch dressing rooms. Lifting his head, he let it fall back upon the wood again with a loud thump.

"Malfoy, get a grip."

"Oh, don't bother him. He always does this before a big match."

Draco ignored them.

"Maybe he'd be a little bit more relaxed if he showed up to practice now and again."

"Sod off." Draco hissed at them, eyes narrowing. He made to run a hand through his hair but stopped short. With a small noise he kicked at the wooden wall roughly.

"Come on, Malfoy."

With a curt little nod, Malfoy took his place behind the rest of the team, fiddling nervously with his leather wrist guards.

Deep breath. He chided himself. Deep breaths.

Sunlight flooded them, wincing smartly into each of the Slytherin's eyes. A roar of noise reached them and Draco felt that feeling of soaring anticipation trickle up from his heart and then down to his fingers.

The rest of the team was already mounted on their brooms, zooming out of the paddock and into the air above the pitch.

Malfoy was the last to leave. He gave a deep breath and looked out over the immense Quidditch field. Streaks of crimson and silver-green darted hither and thither before him.

"Get a grip on yourself." He whispered and mounted his broom.

He felt the wood vibrate and hum under his weight.

"Good broom. Good broom." He chanted as he rocketed off the ground and into the afternoon sunlight.

He nearly collided with Wesley as he too sped upwards, towards to goal posts.

"Oiy, watch yourself ferret!"

"I wouldn't have to if you'd fly properly, Weasel!"

Oh, bet that makes you feel good, doesn't it Malfoy? A little voice whispered to him, hissing in his ear, swirling around in his brain. Makes you feel all superior, doesn't it?

Draco pouted at his own thoughts.

His eyes roamed about the pitch, he swiveled this way and that on his broom, flying steadily up towards the Slytherin goal posts and then down through the air towards the stands.

A bludger streaked by his head and he ducked under it, nearly falling off his broom. It came so close that he let his hands go and fell, purposely, under his broom, his legs locked securely around the wooden handle.

He hung there, limp for a few seconds, before spinning back into a sitting position.

Watching the bludger, it careened down field towards Blaise Zambini, who was defending the goals with the goalie. They were both trying desperately to deflect the quaffle as a other team attempted to score.

Turning his broom around, Malfoy sped towards them and darted out in front of the bludger. As he flew by it, it changed direction, away from his teammates. Higher and higher Malfoy climbed, the bludger following.

In a split second he stopped and the ball zoomed by him and down towards Ron at the goals.

Grinning, Malfoy cast a glance back at Blaise. The boy raised an arm in thanks and Draco returned it.

.o.o.o.o.

The wind whispered around Malfoy's face, stirring his blonde hair.

He sighed inwardly.

Nearly a whole two hours and nothing. Even Potter looked bored out of his mind. Well, bored and a little more cheerful. _They_ were up a good thirty points.

"So much for that." He murmured, remembering Hermione's little 'good luck' the night before.

In fact… Draco thought absently, looking down. He was directly over the Gryffindor stands.

Leaning casually against his broom, Malfoy searched the crowds.

There.

Leaning out, in the front row, Hermione was standing. Her body was thrust outward, over the wooden railing of the stands.

Draco smiled despite himself.

Then, he saw it.

There it was! The snitch! Right there, right near the ground, not but two feet from the turf, hovering next to the far right corner of the Gryffindor stands!

Malfoy couldn't believe it! He was ecstatic!

If he just circled around, cautiously, no one would know. Not even Potter!

_You know what I love about Quidditch? It's that, at any moment, anything can happen…you could be standing there, then… right in front of you…_

Draco took a hard look at Hermione, who was facing the game. The smile on his lips grew wider.

Turning his broom to a sharp angle, Malfoy started to speed towards the ground, right in front of Hermione, right towards the snitch. The crowd gave a collective gasp and looked skywards.

As the ground came rushing up to meet him he saw Potter from the other side of the field start his decent.

He wouldn't catch up.

He couldn't catch up.

Close and closer Draco sped.

Fast and faster.

The air whipped itself around him.

As the stands rushed by him, he saw Hermione, inches away from him, jump back in surprise. He had nearly come down through the air right on top of her, right in front of the crowd.

He was so close he saw her eyes go wide from shock, and her small pursed lips part in surprise as she jumped back.

Her fawn gaze locked with his. A coy smile rested on Malfoy's lips.

But his small lapse in concentration led Draco to turn his broom slightly. As the snitch was so close, Malfoy's broom handle hit the side of the stands, knocking it to the left, almost out from under him.

Malfoy tried to balance this, leaning dangerously close to his right, near the stands, but he overcorrected.

He was jolted off as the back end of the broom hit the stands again.

As he shot towards the ground he saw the snitch glint gold in front of his eyes. He tried in vain to snatch at it.

Draco didn't feel the connection between him and the earth, but he did feel himself roll over about three times before coming to a painful stop along the sidelines, under the Gryffindor stands. His broom spun out along the middle of the pitch.

The breath was knocked out of him.

Hermione leaned out from the stands above him, gasping. She saw Draco, laying there, sprawled, both his hands clutching his heart.

Was he hurt?

Malfoy was gasping for breath yet it would not come. Looking desperately up, he locked eyes with Hermione. Her hands were over her mouth, her eyes wide with terror.

Malfoy's eyes rolled back slightly as his body started to ache terribly.

With a loud, rushing breath, he sucked air into his lungs, his hands still over his heart.

As he started to relax, so did his grasp.

Slowly, his hands unclenched, falling to his side.

The golden snitch fluttered over his chest delicately, the wings coming to a final rest over his collarbone.

The stands went up in a roar.

Draco continued to breath heavily, eyes still locked with Hermione's

* * *

A/n- wow! A chapter in _one day_! Surprise!

The next part is in the works, although, I need to do my homework!

Review! PLEASE!


	9. Transitions

A/n- W00t! I finished all my work! Thanks for the kind reviews, guys! 

Disclaimer: I really don't own Harry Potter.

Summary: An in-between chapter, a look into both the characters minds.

* * *

**Jackknifed**

* * *

Malfoy's intent gaze upon the Gryffindor was broken as three blurs of green cast themselves over his vision.

"What? Mate, you alright?"

Draco blinked a few times, silent.

"Mate?"

"Ugh, what happened?" Malfoy sat up, someone propping up his back with their knee. The golden snitch fell into his lap and lay there, quivering slightly.

"We won, mate, that's what happened!" Blaise clasped Draco on the back, making him pitch a degree or so forward.

All around them the crowd was in an uproar. Draco could see the Slytherin stands erupting in joy, the rest of the school downtrodden.

"You gave us quite a scare there, Malfoy." The captain of the team leaned casually on his broom while another went to grab Draco's.

Draco sneered, halfheartedly. "I knew what I was doing."

"Yeah!" Blaise laughed, helping Draco up. "You were plummeting towards the ground, that's what you were doing!"

Draco gave a wide grin, nodding vacantly. His head still swam. His body ached a little. The snitch was clutched tightly in his grasp.

Madam Hooch dropped down lightly behind the Slytherin team, walking forward with a bemused look on her face.

"Alright, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco nodded.

"Snitch." She said curtly, holding out her hand. Draco dropped the golden ball into her outstretched palm. "Thank you!" She turned to walk off and gather the quaffles.

Malfoy craned his head over his teammates to look at the Gryffindors. Potter was trying to calmly talk to the Weasel boy, Ron looking livid.

Draco felt almost giddy.

.o.o.o.o.

"Ron! Harry!" Hermione waved her hand over her head, running onto the now empty pitch. She had been waiting until the crowds had cleared before making her way down to her friends.

"Hermione." Harry smiled at her, but Ron kept his glowering look. "Are you alright? Malfoy nearly creamed you on his way down." Hermione saw how haggard Harry looked, so tired. He must be so sore from Draco's win.

"I'm fine. Did have quite a scare though!" Hermione grinned as she took Ron's broom from him. "I'll carry that. You look really tired, Ron." The boy just murmured a hurried thanks.

They bid farewell to the rest of the team and started off the pitch. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Draco and the rest of his team walking off towards the castle.

"That was quite a game." She said, mostly to herself.

"Little ferret." Ron sneered. "Can't even stay on his broom and he still wins the match. Ruddy little git."

Hermione looked forlornly at Malfoy's back.

"Oh, I thought it was… ah, brilliant. Very creative. Even if he almost got himself killed."

Ron didn't hear her, but Harry did. He looked at her, lips open as if he was about to say something, his eyebrows were furrowed.

"Wish he _would_ off himself."

"Ron!"

"Oh, give it up Hermione." Harry chuckled. "Ron's bound to hate Malfoy no matter what he does."

.o.o.o.o.

"Pumpkin juice?"

Malfoy made a face.

"Get away, Pansy."

The girl looked mildly crushed… for about ten seconds. Then…

"What about some Butterbeer?"

"Look, Pansy, I really don't feel like it." Draco sat squarely on the Slytherin's plush couch in the common room. His neck was tipped back, wand pointed to his head, a little blue light emitting from its point.

Ah, a cooling spell. Just what his pounding head needed.

The Common Room, however, was not helping his headache. It was like they won the Quidditch World Cup or something. Draco's lip curled. Everyone was gathered around the fire, recounting the match over and over, each story becoming more and more elaborate with each down of Firewhisky.

Draco's eyes fluttered shut, his hair shifting over his face. He sighed inwardly.

What a day it has been, Draco. A small smile curled over his lips. The look on Granger's face! Priceless. His smile widened and he made a mental note to tease her dreadfully over it the next time they met at the Owlry.

With a lurching feeling, he sat up.

Owlry.

"Pansy, what time is it?"

The girl looked over at him, a pinched smile on her face.

"Nearly eight o'clock, Draco dear." 

Malfoy grimaced.

He and Hermione were supposed to meet at six. Damn. And he really needed help on his Transfiguration homework.

Bet the little muggleborn was just sitting there, waiting, like some little dog. Draco sneered happily.

But something about that thought made his heart beat heavily in his ears and he felt the headache coming on a little stronger then it had before.

He shouldn't feel guilty about missing the Owlry.

He _shouldn't_.

It wasn't like they were friends or anything.

Draco smirked.

Draco Malfoy, friends with Granger. Laughable.

Laughable!

But, then, why did he feel so bad about it?

Malfoy sunk deeper into the couch, groaning.

"Butterbeer?" Pansy once again tried to shove a glass into his face. Malfoy grimaced, but took the cup, just so she would shut up.

Pansy smiled sweetly at him.

.o.o.o.o.

"What time is it?"

" Quarter after eight, Hermione." Harry curled himself into a cozy little position next to the fire. Hermione sat across from him, scowling slightly, quill poised over a roll of parchment. "Why?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing." Hermione returned to her work, muttering to herself.

With a loud bang, the boy's dormitory door flew open, ricocheting off the wall. The pair looked up to Ron tottering on the top of the stairs.

"What's wrong?" Hermione puzzled at him.

"Stupid Malfoy." Ron murmured.

"Your not still on about that, are you?" Harry turned from Ron and went back to his work, slightly annoyed at how hard his friend was taking the loss. "Its one game, Ron. We'll beat 'em next time."

"How can you say that?" Ron plopped down next to Hermione who had to grab her bag out of the way. Ron absently caught at it, holding the book bag in his lap. "Finish Transfiguration yet?" He twisted his finger around the blue ribbon tied to the strap.

Hermione watched him, her eyes slits.

"Yes, Ronald. I have."

He opened his mouth to speak.

"But I will not let you copy it."

Harry laughed at them both, especially at the look on Ron's face.

"Look," He started. "Hogsmeade is coming up on Sunday. I'll treat you at a round of drinks, _then _we'll forget about this whole quidditch business."

Ron nodded absently as Hermione snatched back her school bag.

* * *

A/N- I'm not really happy with this chapter because nothing really 'happened' and it was kinda rushed, but I needed a transition. Next chapter coming soon!

W00t!

Review, please!


	10. Prat

A/n- Wow, sorry for the inexcusably long wait, I got really sick last week, so I've been sleeping a lot. Oh, by the way, if you're still reading this and thinking 'okay… the first two chapters were really… random!' Your not alone, and -no- they aren't. Tee. Hee. 

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Summary: Oh, to have good day for once. Really.

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

Hermione passed the Library in a hurried half-run, her book bag nearly empty, surprisingly. It was ten after six, she was late again. 

Well, yesterday she hadn't even shown up.

No matter.

He had probably been partying with his Slytherin 'friends'. But what if he had waited for her? Oh, yes _that _was it, wasn't it? Almost sure he had. Ha!

Hermione scowled to herself as her footfalls echoed around the deserted corridor.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Skidding around the corner, Hermione nearly ran into a short little first year. The girl was looking up the stone steps of the Owlry, staring blankly.

Hermione's brow furrowed and walked around to the front of the girl and blinked at her. It was like she saw right through her, the girl didn't even acknowledge her.

It was then she Hermione had felt it.

Turning around she walked towards the archway over the Owlry staircase.

It hummed.

How odd.

Reaching out, Hermione brushed her hand over the doorway. It was charmed. A concealment spell, a powerful one.

Oh wonderful. Hermione mused, inching her way through the doorway. She was able to pass onto the first stair. Looking back she saw the first year just staring at her, through her. The girl simply turned and walked away.

A concealment spell that only a select few could see. Ah, that was it. It repelled those who we're not allowed to enter.

Malfoy.

Leave it to him to go about acting like their friendshi- acquaintance was some matter of national security.

Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated. Shaking her head, she started up the staircase, her arms feeling so light without the weight of so many books in them.

Halfway up the staircase, Hermione stopped, looking out across the grounds, the dusky sky casting sparkling winks over the castle. She laughed then, feeling so free from it all.

"Off your rocker, Granger?"

Hermione smiled and propped her chin upon her hand, leaning on the stone railing.

"Malfoy." She looked pointedly at him. "Sorry I missed yesterday."

"Well…I didn't even notice, carrying on with my mates, eh?"

"Ah, I see." She was still smiling.

He sat, looking down at her from top step, a book upon his lap, wand out.

"Studying?"

"Hardly."

"Ah, I see." Hermione repeated. "I don't have any work, so, I can help." He looked at her strangely. "If you want." She added hurriedly.

Draco ignored her and proceeded to turn another page in his book. Hermione walked up the remaining steps to the stone landing. She crouched behind Malfoy and looked over his shoulder. He scratched a few words on a rolled up bit of parchment he was balancing on the opposite knee.

Every few moments Hermione would breath in sharply at something Draco wrote. Each little noise making Draco smile. Hermione noticed and made the noise again.

"Granger, what are you doing."

"All of that's wrong."

Malfoy flung his head back in a long laugh. "I don't doubt it is, but _please._ My, your annoying."

"Put that." She pointed at a number in some figure on his paper. "Put that under that and it should come out right."

"Granger," Malfoy shook his head, eyes wide, tone struck. "How would you possibly know the calculations for broom-stick-lift? You don't even-"

"Fly?" Hermione sat herself next to Malfoy, leaning against the stone wall. She closed her eyes and Draco went back to his work, scratching out his previous numbers. Hermione, eyes closed, smiled broadly at the sound of his quill making long raking sounds on the parchment.

"How did you like the match?" Malfoy said offhandedly after a few moments. At that, Hermione dropped her smile.

"You scared me to death."

Draco laughed bitterly. "Worked then. I knew what I was doing."

"Yeah, falling off your broom!" She laughed.

Draco looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Why does everyone say that?!"

"You fell off your broom, Malfoy. Fell. That would be classified as 'falling'."

"Oh shut up."

"Well, I think we should celebrate."

Malfoy choked on his own breath.

"What?"

"You know, finally beating Gryffindor? The big match? Getting your one-up'ance on Har- Potter?"

"I knew you we're off you rocker."

"Well, Hogsmeads' tomorrow. We should go to the Three Broom Sticks. My treat. Something to say 'wow, Malfoy now actually knows what the snitch feels like'."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Slowly, he closed his book and set it aside. Turning, he angled himself so he was looking directly at Hermione. He pointed a finger at her, eyes gleaming, dancing.

"One, I don't enjoy that kind of sarcasm." Humor danced under his words. "Two, it is very hard to 'feel' the snitch when it knocks you in the chest. Three, Hogsmead is too large to put a concealment charm on. And four, you need to- God woman, stop grinning!"

Hermione was about to open her mouth.

"No."

Hermione closed her mouth, then reopened it.

"No-oo." Draco said again, a little too singsong like. "I'm not going to waltz into The Three Broomsticks with a little muggleborn and her Wonder Boy and Weasel attached to her waist. Not happening."

"But you said I was a nice change from your idiot cronies. Someone to talk to."

"Not a permanent change." He corrected, standing up and pulling his things into his arms.

"You know, friends-"

"We're friends?" Draco looked at her with his eyes wide. "I thought I was just using you to study." He said this as if he knew it. Believed it. As if he knew and believe it and she should to, she should have already known it. "Thanks, by the way, for that." He raised his book laden arms slightly. "Never could have done that without you."

Hermione looked stunned.

All of a sudden, just like that? Wasnt he joking with her a few moments before?

What had she said to make him so spitefull?

"But-"

"What, Granger? You really think we're friends?" But his eyes, though they glared at her, Hermione could not see the malice there that his voice held. "Oh, your laughable."

With that he turned and walked down the steps, his wand flicking, the charm over the Owlry entrance disappearing, the low hum it made cut short.

The silence was deafening.

.o.o.o.o.

You're a prat.

Prat. Prat. Prat.

Draco thought to himself all the way back down to the dungeons. Each step he took seemed to echo his thoughts.

_Prat. Prat._

She had actually helped you, you ungrateful little wretch.

Malfoy murmured the password and stepped inside the Common Room.

You just had to go an spoil it.

"Oiy, Draco. Come look'et what Blaise been doing to-"

"Not now."

See? A nasty little voice in his head whispered. Back from that to _this_? What, Granger's company worth less then this lot's? Their a bunch of mindless trolls.

"I think I might be going insane."

Zabini walked up and clasped Draco on the back.

"We all are, mate. We all are. Oh, we thought up something while you we're gone! Three Broom Sticks. Tomorrow. Hogsmead. A little 'celebration' round, eh?"

Malfoy grimaced.

* * *

A/n- okay, this is the lovechild of fangirl-rabbles + very, very strong cold medicine. Sorry if it sucked. Next one up soon…like… tonight or tomorrow- hopefully.

Review!


	11. Luck

A/n- YES….er….still sick. Amazing, is it not? Thanks for all the support guys, really. 3 3 Oh, and I've realized how utterly random my title seems. Don't worry, I haven't gone nutters. 

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I'd be rich- but I don't, so I'm not.

Summary: A friendship on the cusp of being born.

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

"I've never liked Hogsmead."

Draco grunted a slight reply, hands shoved into his pockets, surrounded by a group of six Slytherin companions. He clutched his robe tighter about him. Only three in the afternoon and the chill was already seeping in through the stitching.

Winter was coming.

And God, what a joy. Draco was tired of all this frilly warm weather.

"Are you listening?"

Malfoy blinked for a moment, turning around. "What?" He looked at Zabini.

"I asked whether or not you had invited Pansy to join us."

Malfoy went ridged.

"Why would I do something like that?" Draco's lip curled. Blaise chuckled as they continued walking down the Hogsmead streets.

Malfoy took in a deep breath, the cold air scalding his lungs. He looked up at the looming houses towering over the street, their bulk held back by some gravity defying string of magic. He, never admitting it, would always love Hogsmead. It was so… away… from everything Hogwarts.

And sometimes that was a very good thing.

Putting a firm grip upon his shoulders, Blaise startled Malfoy out of his trance.

"Come on, let's get on with it."

Draco groaned. "Do we have to?" He looked to Goyle for assistance but the boy was just as eager as Blaise to have a drink. Malfoy sighed.

"Mate, you've been way too down these last few days. And here I'd thought your little win would have put some of your usual cheer back into ya."

"Cheer?"

Some of the Slytherins snorted but Zabini grinned defiantly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I haven't heard you curse Potter nor torment the Weasel lately. Hell, even the mudblood's getting off easy!" The group roared with laughter.

Malfoy suppressed the urge to retch.

Retch, then curse Blaise.

He did neither.

"I've been-" Draco made some kind of gesture. "I've been distracted lately."

"See?" Zabini prodded his chest with a long finger. "This is just the thing to pick you back up! Nothing more about the matter!" He steered Malfoy along the street and over to the Three Broomsticks.

Draco steeled himself as the door was wrenched open by Crabb. The warm air hit him fully in the chest and he let out a frail sigh.

He had awoken this morning feeling a bit broken after- after what had happened the night before.

He hadn't meant to blow up at her like that, not after how kind-

After he had-

Why was everything so damn confusing?

"I need something. Something strong."

"Ahha!" Zabini clasped him on the back heartily. "That's it, mate!"

Malfoy stumbled in through the doorway as his cronies looked about for a booth. They chose a rounded table close to the window, able to peer out at those mulling about on the street. A few Slytherin boys Draco hardly knew pulled out their wands and cast simple tripping jinxes out at the Sunday shoppers. Draco pretended to be amused.

"Honestly, Ron, you didn't need that new Cannons poster. It's just a Quidditch team."

"What would you know about Quidditch?"

"I know the broom-to-flyer lift ratio calculat-"

"Just drop it you two, this was a chance to be rid of some Quidditch for a while."

"Blasphemous, Harry!"

"Shut UP, Ronald!"

Nearly all the Slytherins craned their heads over the crowd at the sounds of the trio. Malfoy groaned and buried his face in his hands upon the table.

He didn't need this. He didn't want this!

What had he done to deserve this?

But then, the answer to that question was now glaring at him halfway across the Three Broomsticks.

Granger.

She had spotted him, his shock of blond hair reflecting the tinny light from the tavern. She sat opposite Potter and Weasel, facing the Slytherin table, facing Draco. Blaise had to turn fully in his chair to get a look at them.

Narrowing her eyes she returned to her conversation, her voice lowered so they couldn't hear her. Draco saw both boys stiffen as she undoubtedly told them they had eavesdroppers.

Malfoy tried a scathing smirk but it didn't come. He felt slightly petrified.

This mood, however, did not improve with-

"Oiy, Potter. Out for a casual drink, eh mate?" Zabini called gaily over the chatter around them. He turned for a moment to order a round of drinks before resuming his taunting. "Trying to relive your Quidditch glory days, seeing as they're over?"

"Oh yeah." Ron turned around, going slightly pink. "We're really worried that your ferret caught one measly little snitch in one measly little game."

The Slytherin group hissed at him, audibly. Malfoy sunk lower in his chair and tried to hide behind his drink that had just been served. Granger was glaring at him.

Potter was trying desperately to ignore this whole exchange, almost as much as Draco was.

Almost.

"Come on mate, have a go at 'em."

"Like their sport?" Malfoy murmured

"What?"

"Nothing." He sighed.

"You know, Malfoy, you and your group _should_ really get out of here." Oh, so _now_ Potter was getting into the fray. "Lest they have to pull you out of that drink you seem to be attempting to drown yourself in."

Malfoy straightened up considerably.

How _dare_ he.

The Slytherins looked at Potter then at Malfoy. Draco opened his mouth to speak, Zabini edging him on with quick, sharp, glances.

"Yea? Yea, Potter?" He was trying, trying so hard to rile himself up. He was failing, Granger's glare becoming more and more a concerned stare. " I think we **should** leave. The place is already foul enough with you and Weasel here. Not to mention your little tag-along mu-"

All his men were looking at him, expectantly.

Potter and the Weasel were staring at him.

Hermione's gaze was that of tolerated sadness. As if, she realized, that for all his 'kindness' he was still a Malfoy. Still a pureblood.

" -muggleborn." He finished, weakly.

It was deathly silent.

Now Malfoy had wished he _had_ drowned himself in his drink.

After what seemed like eternity, he looked up from his goblet. They were staring at him. The Slytherins were stunned into comatose shock but the trio, well… Potter and the Weasel both looked slack jawed but Granger was beaming at him.

Her eyes were alight with a fervor that Draco had only seen her give when she got full marks on a particularly challenging paper. It was a gaze full of hope and warmth. She knew he wasn't so bad and **that** made him feel all the more awkward.

It was as if their little argument from the day before had never taken place. She had forgiven him the moment he let slip his little moment of compassion.

She knew she was no longer a mudblood to him.

And it made her _happy_.

Draco hung his head.

What was he doing? What was he doing with all of this?

"Draco, mate?"

"Shut up."

"Come on, Ron, we better go." He heard Hermione mutter to the boy.

"Naw, I think I want to watch this a little longer."

"Come on." Harry stood up and grabbed Ron. He and Hermione pulled him out the front door. Malfoy watched them disappear up the lane.

"What are you on about, mate?" His companions were looking at him, blank faces of horror clearly apparent.

"I don't know. I feel sick." Draco lied.

"We should go back, eh?" Blaise motioned to the barmaid. "Get this chap two butterbeer bottles, all right?" He looked at Draco again. "You can drink 'em back at the Common Room."

Malfoy nodded absently, thinking to himself.

What the hell was he going to do with _two_ butterbeers? He could barely finish half of one himself.

Slowly a thought dawned on him.

Ah, that was it then.

And Draco smiled to himself.

* * *

A/n- Okay, so I cracked. I promised myself I would be diligent about the spelling mistakes but I just can't! I'm horrible at spelling!

So, I have enlisted the help of my literary better-half to beta me.

Plan on seeing better chapters from now on- thank god, right? (but don't thank me, it's all Mika)

Next chapter coming soooooonnnnn! And thanks for the 'get well' wishes!

Review, please, please review! I love all your nice little comments!


	12. Toast

A/n- Well again! Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: A toast.

* * *

**Jackknifed **

**

* * *

**

"I didn't think you'd meet me here."

"I didn't think I'd meet you here either…"

"Well," Draco smirked. "You did."

Malfoy watched as she set down her book bag upon the stone atrium of the Owlry, leaning against the building, face tilted towards the Hogwarts grounds. Malfoy stood opposite, hands in his pockets, barred against the slight chill of the evening.

He had arrived from Hogsmead just a few minuets before.

"You can warm yourself by the fire." Blaise had told him, obviously still believing his fabricated illness. "Pansy 'll keep you company."

Draco had flatly refused the offer, but when Zabini urged him further, Malfoy had had enough. Uttering a weak groan he pushed past his fellow Slytherins along the Entrance Hall, his hand grasping his right side.

"Think I'll go to the Hospital Wing." He had told them.

As they moved to follow he held up a hand and gave them an icy glare.

"I don't need help." They stopped in their tracks. "I'll meet up with you later."

Restraining himself from breaking into a sprint, Malfoy rounded the corner into the narrow passageways, away from his mates.

As their chatter died away, Malfoy's falsely pained face became oddly pensive, his hunched shoulders rolled back to being perfectly strait.

He didn't drop his hands though, they still grasped his side. The Butterbeer bottles clanked dully as he held them within his cloak's inner pocket.

He wasn't waiting long before Hermione had ascended the Owlry steps.

He cast a glance over to her. She looked, almost in rapture, at the waning sunset disappearing over the horizon behind him.

Draco couldn't discern whither or not he was disgusted by the look, or enthralled by it.

Slowly, as if the darkness was breathing life back into her again, Hermione took a shuttering breath. Malfoy watched as her shoulders relaxed and her arms dropped from their crossed position in front of her chest.

She looked at him then, for the first time since climbing the stairs. She looked at him with the same gaze one would give a friend after being gone for a terribly long time. Draco tensed.

"Thank you." She said, plainly, as if the words were so easy. Draco knew they were not. "For being so kind today."

He puzzled at that for a moment, her statement creating a turmoil of confusion and panic that swelled within his stomach.

Malfoy averted his gaze, running a hand thorough his white-blonde hair. Slowly he stole a glance back at her.

She was still looking at him, that nearly manic gleam ever present in her soft brown eyes.

"You're…welcome." The sounds felt foreign on his tongue.

Hermione let a small smile crest over her pursed lips.

Draco looked away, as if her gaze burned him.

Hermione sighed to herself, shifting her position against the wall. Tugging a lock of wavy hair around her finger she stared off into space.

For an instant Malfoy felt oddly warm as he thought of the events at The Three Broomsticks; at the look of utter forgiveness Granger had given him. But as he scoffed as that memory, that feeling it melted away, leaving him feeling cold and bitter.

As if the motion would warm him, Draco pulled out the two butterbeer bottles from his cloak, resting them on the thick stone railing. He heard Hermione push off the wall and walk up next to him.

"Where'd you get those?" She questioned, nearly disapprovingly, but with a hint of sarcastic humor in her voice.

"I brought them." Malfoy said simply.

"What for?"

It was nearly rhetorical.

"Gesture of good faith."

Hermione let out a sharp laugh of disbelieve. Draco pouted sardonically .

"Now, Granger, I would have guessed you'd think all the better of me, bringing these here to share with you." He clutched one of the bottles and tilted it against his hand, his Slytherin crested ring sliding up under the bottle cap.

With a quick flick of the wrist the top flew off and a small noise of carbonation escaped the newly opened bottle. Draco smirked. It had sounded as if the jeweled snake around his ring had given a low, tinny hiss.

He handed the bottle to Hermione who accepted it, almost awkwardly, as Malfoy opened the second bottle.

He watched as Hermione leaned against the railing, looking first at the bottle, then at Draco. What was she wondering?

Malfoy chuckled bitterly.

"I haven't poisoned it."

"I never said you did."

"You we're thinking it." His piteous smile grew wider. "And here I thought it would be a nice gesture between friends."

"You said we weren't friends. You said you were using me."

"And if I _was_ and this is just another lie? Just another ploy?"

"Then I'd walk away. I don't need your drink _nor_ your company."

"Then why are you still here?" Malfoy's voice was a growl within his chest, a feral sound. His shoulders hunched forward as he leaned across the few feet between he and Hermione.

"Because I know you want friendship." Hermione's voice was just as dangerous, if not matter-of-factly. "You yearn for what I have with Harry and Ron." She pointed a finger at him. "I know it."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know you, Malfoy."

"You know…" He said in a sickening voice, holding a tone that was fringed with murder. "what I want you to know. What the world _thinks_ they know. You know nothing about who I am."

"Then I guess this is my chance to learn." Hermione folded her arms over her chest, the butterbeer bottle hanging limply from one hand. She leaned back onto her heels.

Draco was amazed at her.

She could do no wrong.

He didn't know if he wanted to curse her or embrace her. Either of the two would obviously deteriorate her already shortened fuse.

"I-" Malfoy halted his words. Hermione's gaze broke a fraction, her eyes swiveling to meet his. Draco's gaze was sharp, sharp and unnaturally bright against the din. With a slow movement, feeling as if he was reacting without fully realizing so, Malfoy nodded, once.

"A toast then." Hermione continued at the look of near relief and resignation on Malfoy's face. "To a newly hewn friendship."

She uncrossed her arms and held out her bottle, cocking it slightly in her hand.

Draco looked at it, that bottle. The way the light shone through the glass and stained Granger's hand was enthralling. It created a cast of amber, making her dusky skin glow orange, Malfoy's hand a contrasting ghostly white. Slowly, he outstretched his hand, the two glasses nearly touching.

With a quick look he tore his eyes away, stopped his motion, as a dread overtook him.

The bottles were mere centimeters apart.

Why was he stopping now when he was so close?

He glanced back at Hermione, his eyes, alight, bore into hers.

In a fleeting gesture, Hermione reached out to Malfoy's free hand which was resting upon the stone railing. She barely grazed his sleeve, her fingers creating small creases in the cloth.

She didn't touch his skin.

"Do you know what your doing, Draco?" She asked softly, eyes to the ground, hand still hovering over his, not daring to touch him.

Did he?

Draco looked out over the lake.

Did he know that, by doing this, he was becoming a blood traitor? Denouncing his father, his pride, and his name? Taking all that he had stood for, and throwing it away?

Did he know this was impossible? Wretched? Unimaginable? Him and the muggleborn, becoming familiar.

Did he know that, if caught, he would be disowned? Disgraced? Or worse?

Did he know that?

"Yes." Malfoy thrust his chin up, looking back at the butterbeer bottles, defiant. Hermione drew a steady breath.

With a small, nearly chaste smile, he closed the distance and clinked the bottles together, brining the rim of the glass to his lips.

Hermione watched him as he tossed his head to the side, hair swinging out of his face. Draco threw his chin back and gulped the drink down, eyes screwed shut. His neck made a column of chalkiness in the darkened air.

Hermione also downed her drink, never taking her eyes off Malfoy.

Drops of the sweet liquid stained their lips.

As Draco slowly opened his eyes and fixed them upon Hermione's fawn gaze, they cast their first glances upon each other as friends.

Both grinned.

* * *

A/N- Ha, sorry this took so long! Hope it was worth the wait. Sorry If there were any mistakes, my beta reader was out of town for the weekend and I felt like you guys had been waiting too long! My apologies!

This chapter was actually really emotionally draining. Every time I'd write a little more of it, I'd become really weary- not because I was bored- but it was like the intensity of the situation was wearing me down.

Weird.

Anyway, I'll start the next one soon!


	13. Coverlet

A/n- So, I've been planning and it seems that this story is going to be 20 chapters, maybe 21 if you feel we need an epilogue. 

Disclaimer: HA! Yeah right.

Summary: Takes place a little over a week from the last chapter.

* * *

**Jackknifed **

**

* * *

**

"Oiy, Hermione, I thought you got rid of that thing." Ron pointed at her school bag over his goblet of orange juice one morning.

Hermione blinked stupidly at him for a few seconds.

Ron made another motion to her shoulder.

Hermione realized with a slow moving horror he was talking about the blue ribbon tied her bags' strap. She made an effort to stifle an eye roll.

"You still on about that?" Harry murmured as he forked a pancake.

"Well, she's had it since she skipped class that Tuesday." Ron grinned at her. Hermione noted how much joy he got out of teasing her. "Souvenir from your little escapades?" He raised an eyebrow. Hermione choked into her drink.

"I told you a million times; I was in the Common Room _sleeping_, Ron."

The boy pulled a pout.

"Honestly Hermione, can't you find anything better to do when cutting class besides sleeping or doing more homework?"

Hermione shrugged, not looking at him.

"Don't start, Ron." Harry gave a deep sigh, looking haggard.

"Well, I wouldn't if Hermione-"

"Ron-"

"Don't 'Ron' me, Harry- Oiy, Hermione, where you going?"

By the time the boys had pulled themselves out of their little row, she was already up from the table and walking past them.

"I'm going to Potions early."

"Early? What for?"

"I-" Hermione turned a slight shade of pink. "I forgot to finish the homework from last night." It was disturbing how many Gryffindors turned to stare at her with the same look of blank horror. "What?"

Ron just started laughing, but Harry grew quiet.

"You all right, Hermione?" His green eyes held hers for a few moments, his brows creased together. Hermione grinned at him.

"Yeah." She said, utter softness lacing her voice. "Yeah, I am. Thanks. I'll see you two in a bit."

With that she turned and continued down the long table to the Entrance Hall., all the while feeling guilty. She _really_ _hadn't_ finished her essay for class. She had been up until nearly midnight with Malfoy at the Owlry playing wizard chess. 

He always won, the prat.

Nearly to the door Hermione strode when a group of Slytherin boys swooped around the corner, led by Draco.

Hermione tried to sidestep them but Draco's shoulder came into contact with hers and she was momentarily thrown off balance.

She caught his gaze and saw it was a calculated fury, directed solely at her.

After a pause their shoulders disconnected and Hermione shuffled her feet back so she wouldn't fall.

Gazing after him she heard Ron and Harry stand up sharply, cutlery clanging onto their plates. Both looked murderously at Malfoy who was completely ignoring them, going to sit at his table.

Only for a fraction of a second did he acknowledge Hermione, eyes darting to meet hers, a soft stare through his blue eyes reaching her.

It was almost like a silent apology.

Almost.

"We'll come with you, Hermione." Harry said soothingly as they walked up to her. Ron tossed another glare at Malfoy.

"Thanks."

The trio started to walk out of the Great Hall and Hermione felt a thrill of excitement.

Looking down she saw her ribbon tied into a neat little bow.

Malfoy.

She smiled.

.o.o.o.o.

It was a friendship drawn out of necessity. They both needed it. Hermione for the flippant company and Draco for the intelligent companionship.

She told this to Malfoy that evening, sitting upon the Owlry steps, watching him read.

At this Draco flung his head back in a harsh laugh.

"Whatever makes you feel better, Granger."

Hermione smiled, shoving her hair behind her ear, scrunching up her knees upon which her homework rested.

They had been sitting there for a good forty minutes, opposite each other, both nearly ignoring the other. Hermione had, for the first half an hour, been working, but damn it all if she could figure this out.

Most of the time everything just clicked for her.

This, apparently, was not one of those times.

"This is utter rubbish, I won't do it! Sodding Arrhythmicy."

Malfoy gave a low whistle, looking up from his book. "Finally something Granger can't figure out?" He cocked his head to the side to watch her toss a glare in his general direction.

"It's obviously a trick question or something."

"Let me see."

Hermione gave a laugh.

"_I_ can't figure it out. What makes you think _you_ can?"

Malfoy placed his book down on the Owlry steps. Standing slightly, bent at the knees, he moved around to sit next to Hermione who had grabbed the parchment and the school book, placing it once again in her lap.

Malfoy leaned over, his green and silver robes pooled at his feet, the cloth moving against itself, creating a silky sound.

Hermione flinched for a moment at Draco's sudden movement as he leaned across the space between them.

He stopped for a moment when she shied away.

His eyes lingered on hers, a questioning gaze.

But Hermione said nothing. Instead she relaxed, her shoulders becoming less tense. Moving, she turned her knees to Malfoy, displaying her homework.

As Draco leaned over, taking her quill, a tendril of his golden hair fluttered by her shoulder, his bowed head making his bangs brush forward.

As he read her paper, Hermione tried to suppress the slight panic that was swimming around her stomach.

He was so close to her now.

Just how much space had been lost between them in the last few weeks?

She could hear him breathing; he was so close, leaning over her shoulder.

Not thinking, Hermione reached up with her hand and fingered the lock of silver hair that lay against her robes. It shone brilliantly; a starlight coverlet.

Draco made a noise as he found her mistake and corrected it with the quill, eyes focused so hard on the paper, his mind calculating and recalculating the problem.

As he moved, Hermione breathed in a fraction.

She could smell him.

Hermione wrapped his hair around her little finger, intrigued by the way it was feather soft and not like course straw as she always had imagined.

He smelled like the almond wood that burned within the Common Room hearths. As if the gray smoke had reached up and mingled permanently with him, sheathing his eyes in the same dusky silver.

"There." He said, as if he was proud of himself, sitting back up.

Hermione hadn't let go of his hair yet.

"Ouch!"

Her hand swiftly retracted, a few gold strands laced in between her fingers.

"God, Granger." He drawled. "Trying to scalp me?"

"Sorry." Hermione blushed, truly meaning it. She looked down at her parchment. "God! It's correct! How did you figure this out? Already do the homework?"

Malfoy shook his head.

"Haven't started and probably won't."

Hermione looked incredulous.

"You have a lot of potential."

"If only I'd apply myself." He finished sarcastically, giving her a tiny smile.

"Mmm." Hermione mused, rolling her eyes, still resigning herself to the fact that she did **not** want to do any more work. It seemed that Malfoy thought the same. As he moved back to his original seat he did not pick up his book again.

"Restless?" He inquired.

Hermione didn't know whether. to say yes, that meaning he was poor company, or no, that meaning he was good company.

She simply shrugged.

"Possibly we could talk about something?"

Draco nodded.

"What about?" He bit his lip, running his hand through his hair.

"Anything." Hermione said, slightly breathless.

"Anything?"

Hermione should have known, by then, after being friends with Harry and Ron, to _never_ under _any_ circumstances ask a boy to talk about whatever he wants.

The conversation will always stray to quiddich.

But, after Hermione transcended the initial dread at the thought of being given another intilectual flying lesson, she found herself taking a liking to Malfoy's conversation.

He didn't speak of the sport the way Harry or Ron did.

Instead of recounting his quiddich splendors, Draco related the finer aspects of the sport.

Instead of the brutality of the **Bludgers**, he spoke of **the soaring feeling** he felt as he kicked off the pitch.

Instead of his pride, he spoke of his love.

It was emotional, not materialistic.

Hermione was entranced.

"Am I-" Draco paused, a hand in the air, paused mid flight as he demonstrated a particularly impressive broom move with his palm. He quirked his eyebrow. "Am I boring you?"

Hermione laughed, shaking her head, chin resting on her upturned hand.

"I'm captivated."

Malfoy continued, after giving her a disbelieving look and Hermione grinned as she noted a faint crimson blush creep into the pale boy's cheeks.

.o.o.o.o.

"Do you trust me, Granger?" Malfoy asked as she made to descended the Owlry steps an hour later. He called to her from his sitting position.

He had noted her flinch earlier, not to mention her jumpy nature when he was close.

He didn't blame her in the slightest.

Hermione laughed.

"I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw you, Malfoy."

He grinned at her.

"Perhaps, in time, you could be persuaded."

His voice became as soft and as deadly as falling ash.

Hermione bit her lip.

"Do you trust me then, Draco?"

He didn't answer.

"Goodnight." She quipped.

"Goodnight, Granger." He uttered as she departed.

* * *

Sorry it took so long!!! Hope you enjoyed!!!

Next one coming soon!

Review!Review!


	14. Pair

A/n- Okay, let me say THANK YOU! to everyone who has reviewed and who will review- you guys make my day! 

Disclaimer: You make me laugh.

Summary: The onset of winter, around a month after the previous chapter. I'm _trying_ to keep a timeline for this, but it's a _loose_ timeline!

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

It had started.

Slowly at first, a weak heartbeat against thin veins.

It began mid-morning, around nine, as the students milled about, both dreading and anticipating morning classes.

The first drop fell then, splattering upon a lone student's forehead, trickling down their cheek.

Tentatively the student touched the rivulet of water, looking at their hand, perplexed. Their gaze then turned skyward.

A mass of bodies started for the Entrance Hall, clamoring books and unfinished homework back into their bags lest the rain take them.

Drops fell more steadily now, drenching the late starters in a chilled embrace as the sky turned gray and the clouds rolled ominously overhead.

The swarm pushed through the double doors into the castle, all struggling to escape the wet. Yet, Draco stood, stark contrast to the panic of the others, just outside those doors, shielded from the now sheeting rain by the stone buttresses above.

His arms were folded against his chest as he looked, brooding, out at the darkening land.

He smiled, his chest heaving as the feral smell of dampness reached him.

.o.o.o.o.

"I heard the match is going to be canceled."

"Are you sure?"

Harry nodded and Ron gave a low whistle.

"Can't they just… magic it away or something?"

"It's _rain_, Ronald. You can't 'magic away' the _rain_."

"She's got a point." Harry smiled, dipping his quill into the ink blotter, dragging the tip across his parchment.

"_It's rain, Ronald_. Yeah, I got it." Ron sank a bit lower in his seat, arms folded.

The room illuminated for a stark moment as a sharp jolt of silver streaked the sky, light filtering in through the small Potion's room windows.

One one-thousand.

Two one-thousand.

The sky above bellowed.

"I particularly like the rain." Hermione wondered allowed, staring out into space."

"You would." Ron snorted.

"There's just something so unpredictable about it."

"You're not unpredictable."

Why did that sound so familiar?

Hermione was just about to open her mouth and retort with an 'I can be unpredictable if I want, Ronald' but was cut off by Snapes' chair squeaking a bit too obnoxiously.

"I see how the weather can be so… fascinating, but if you wouldn't mind…" He leaned out of his chair behind his desk over at the trio. "Finish copying down your notes!" His low hiss carried well over to those seated at the back of the room.

Hermione stifled an eye roll, and bit her lip, refocusing on her parchment.

The clouds cracked again outside, rattling the windows.

Was it _only_ just afternoon?

The class murmured louder when the thunder sounded even closer that time.

Snape snapped his book closed, furious. Pushing back from his desk he walked over to the chalk board and wiped it clean with a wave of his wand. Folding his arms, he turned to glare at the incredulous looks he was getting from the students who were in mid-sentence of line four on the bored.

"Seeing how all of you are **clearly** done with your notes, it is now time to partner up and gather the ingredients you have copied down into separate containers to be used in tomorrow's potion. Pair up!"

A tumult of groaning was heard at this for, clearly, almost no one was finished when the board was cleaned.

Harry and Ron looked hopefully at Hermione for her finished copy, but she was already chatting animatedly with Parvati about their potion.

"Oh, _Professor_?" A voice drawled.

All heads turned in the direction of Malfoys' words, which seemed to blossom out from the caustic chatter of the class.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

Draco cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair, twirling his wand between his fingers.

"I am _not_ working with Longbottom. I'd rather come out of this lesson with _all _my limbs."

It seemed that Crabb and Goyle had already paired up and Malfoy, being incessantly lazy, had waited for a different Slytherin to present themselves. However, when the class had settled, Neville was the only one left.

Snape sniffed in through his long nose.

"Well?" The man said to the Slytherin, his brow raised, waiting for him to choose a new partner.

Malfoy furrowed his brow for a moment, eyes roaming about the room, falling on Goyle who was trying—and failing—to pull out the cork of his inkbottle. Malfoy inwardly grimaced. Turning his gaze from the other boy, he settled on another figure.

He grinned.

"Granger."

The class held their breath.

Perhaps they had heard wrong? Perhaps he had made a mistake?

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione looked slack jawed up at Snape.

"But Professor! I'm with P—"

"_Now_."

Hermione gave a resigned smile at Parvati and picked up her books. The other girl watched in silent horror as her A-plus slowly walked off only to be replaced by a partner that would surely equate a fail. Neville smiled hopefully at the girl, moving to sit at the newly unoccupied chair. But, slipping a bit in the process, he nearly fell over.

Parvati hung her head.

Across the room Hermione slouched into a chair next to Malfoy. She gave him a disapproving look before dumping her books onto the desk, the massive pile drowning his work.

"I hope you know what your doing!" She hissed under her breath, fully aware that everyone was still silent, still staring at them.

"I always do." Malfoy said, plucking her notes from the table.

_Humph_. Hermione thought.

Slowly, the class seemed to recover from their shock. Malfoy simply wanted a good grade. Nothing unusual about that

"Here." Malfoy said, placing a small empty bottle in front of Hermione, reaching for a cutting board to chop up a few handfuls of roots.

"We're doing a potion together." Hermione murmured under her breath. It wasn't a question, or a statement; it was more to herself then to the boy next to her.

Malfoy opened his eyes wide and nodded absently at her.

Their friendship had leveled out since the first month they had met. They didn't meet religiously every night but rendezvoused two or three times a week up at the Owlry.

Still, it was unnerving to sit next to each other without throwing highly questionable barbs…or helping each other with particularly challenging homework.

"When you're done with that," Hermione noted. "I need two spoonfuls put in the glass jar."

"How many?" Draco murmured as he carefully used a little knife to scrape off the root's skin.

"Two."

Hermione nodded as she reached around Draco's arm for another jar. She nudged aside his sleeve, picking it up delicately with a finger and reaching around it to the other side of the table.

"Do you want to meet tonight?"

Hermione glanced at Malfoy.

"It's raining." She took a few roots and bottled them. Looking up she caught Harry's eye. He smiled at her and waved, rolling his eyes at Malfoy as if to say 'sorry about that'.

"_So_?" Draco questioned.

Hermione felt a thrill of terror as Draco poked her hand; the roots finished and waiting to be bottled. Harry, who glanced down at the pairs' table, noted the slight gesture. Hermione yanked her hand away from Malfoy and gave him a scathing look.

Harry smirked and shook his head, looking back down at his notes.

He didn't see the pained look on Malfoy's face.

"What was that for?" The boy asked, leeks spilled all over the table from Hermione's movement.

"Sorry." She muttered hastily, pushing the bottle towards him.

They fell silent for a few moments, Hermione torn between finishing prepping the potion and apologizing to Malfoy. She didn't need him being too familiar with everyone watching.

She had to remain cold.

Stoic.

"You didn't answer me." Malfoy said, a cool tone lacing his words, a slight edge to his voice.

"Uhn?"

"I asked why it mattered if it was raining."

Hermione scoffed.

Draco gave her a look. "What! I mean it."

"Because…" Hermione gathered up the filled bottled, labeling them delicately with her wand.

She didn't finish her sentence before she was cut off.

"Meet me."

"Where?" Hermione blurted out without thinking. They had been whispering quietly before but her sudden words were a little louder then planned. A few heads moved in their direction but then lost interest, chalking up the outburst to petty hate.

Malfoy grinned at her.

"Entrance Hall."

Not the Owlry?

"Al—alright."

Draco was nearly jovial as he waved around his little knife, splitting open another root. Hermione flinched away as the blade glinted in the light.

The sky crackled, making her jump.

* * *

A/n- this chapter was kind of filler but the next one… well, do you remember when Draco admitted (without really saying so) that he didn't trust Hermione?


	15. Rain

A/N- SORRY! This took WAY to long but I had to host Easter! No excuses! Enjoy 

Disclaimer: NOOOOOO! Yeah, that's about it.

Summary: Malfoy shows he trust Hermione, and Hermione… well…

* * *

**Jackknifed **

**

* * *

**

Draco had never really walked in the rain with anyone before. Yet, this year was all about firsts wasn't it?

Malfoy smirked; hands jammed into his slacks pockets. His fingers splayed outwards against the cloth.

Flexing.

Daft. This was utterly daft!

Draco sighed, leaning against the Entrance Hall doors, the oak jutting upwards to caress the door frame.

He didn't need to do it, but he wanted to.

He wanted to show her…

"This is bloody crazy."

"I couldn't agree more." A curt voice chipped from the darkness.

Malfoy looked up, eyes trailing up the dark corridor to see Hermione step out of the shadows.

"Hey." He breathed.

Hermione smiled at him and Draco could see the twinge of apprehension in her eyes.

"Why are we out here again? I had to practically charm the boys into ignoring my absence!"

"Again?" Malfoy folded his arms over his chest. Hermione let out a noise of frustration.

They laughed slightly, their voices mingling strangely, a light chiming noise.

Draco grinned.

Admittedly, she had become more comfortable with him, as he had her. They no longer chatted about meaningless classes and overzealous teachers, too much homework, the boring quiddich matches, the exciting ones.

They had begun to talk about the future.

Draco found that, when in Granges' presence, he had no problem belting out his hopes and dreams for the 'after Hogwarts'.

It seems she didn't either.

Did she know the pride that erupted in him when she had, almost abashedly, admitted her distain for the Ministry of Magic and how, if _she_ were ever Minister, serious changed would occur?

He had asked if she was serious.

She had been.

"Draco?"

Her voice was a soft reverberation within his ears.

"Hmm?" He looked down at her standing a near pace away. His shoulders stood a bit straighter at her look, his white collared shirt itching the nape of his neck almost annoyingly.

"You never answered my question."

"Which one, you're always full of questions." He said nastily, squinting a little sneer at her. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"About why we're out here."

"Oh." He grinned, running a hand though his hair, the other still firmly shoved within his pocket. "Going for a walk." He said finally.

Her look was nearly incredulous.

Draco smiled hopefully.

"You were right, that is bloody crazy."

Malfoy sneered.

"Why!"

"It's raining, Malfoy!" Hermione laughed.

"Oh, come on."

Draco looked hopefully at her, taking a few steps backward to lay a hand on the door.

Hermione pursed her lips, hands on her hips.

"Come on, Granger! It always has to be safe, doesn't it?"

Hermione opened her mouth in protest but was cut short.

"Always have to stay with Potter and the Weasel, can't come out to play. It's only a little rain! I swear!"

Draco couldn't look at her any longer, couldn't watch that emotion of hurt flicker in her eyes.

He wrenched the doors open and slipped out, nearly throwing himself down the front steps and out into the whirling, sheeting rain.

She always had to do that, didn't she? Draco scoffed to no one.

Always had to make him mad.

Draco ran a hand through his wet hair, shaded a burnt gold from the dampness, his shirt plastered to his skin, paper thin.

His hands were shoved again into his pockets, standing stalk still in the middle of the soaked lawn, brooding.

"Draco!"

Malfoys' eyes shot up to the stone steps.

Hermione pushed her wet hair away from her eyes as she walked tentatively down to the grounds.

Draco, still brooding, followed her through heavily lidded eyes. Hermione blinked away the water from her lashes.

"Well?" She questioned, arms folded as she stood a little off to the side. "Are we going?"

Draco blinked at her, walking past her a little ways past towards Greenhouses, Hermione following at his arm, bumping into him every so often.

"I love the rain." Draco breathed as they rounded the lake, the large drops that were falling from the sky making great splashes against the water.

He peered round at the girl next to him who had stopped to lean against a rock near the edge of the lake.

"Very rarely do you love anything, Malfoy." She said, almost absently, watching her reflection waver and break every time a raindrop splattered onto the water.

Draco glared ruefully.

Quiddich, he thought.

I love quiddich.

Hermione yawned.

"Tired?" Malfoy questioned, shivering as he felt ice cold water run down his back, sliding like silk over his shoulder blades.

"A little."

"Come on then, I fixed something."

Hermione stood up, patting her knees, looking at the blonde with a questioning glance.

"Fixed what?"

Draco said nothing but continued round the lake, stopping at the outline of the forest, the trees bending down to the rain above.

Under one of the tall trees lay a green and silver blanket, nestled up by the trunk. Hermione, on Draco's heels, stopped short and looked from the blanket to the blonde.

"You're kidding."

Draco shook his head, smiling, hands again in his pockets.

"I put a warming charm on it, so it's dry."

Hermione laughed and walked past Malfoy, turning on the spot, her hands clasped together.

Draco smiled, one of those rare smiles, a quicksilver twitch of his lips.

Hermione sat down upon the blanketed ground, leaning her back against the tree. Draco came around to sit next to her, looking up through the trees at they grey sky above.

They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the rain hit the leaves up in the canopy above.

"See, Granger?" Malfoy said finally, head back against the bark. Hermione looked at him.

He didn't need to say anything more, it was just a statement left in the air that Hermione could fill in for herself.

See Granger? I trust you.

See Granger? I told you to take a chance.

See Granger? I love the rain.

See Granger?

See?

Faintly, as the sky grew darker, the rain bellowing against the trees, did Draco notice a weight against his arm.

Faintly his head nodded to his left.

Hermione was breathing deeply, barely asleep against him. Draco reached up tentatively to push a wet lock of hair away from her brow.

Silly girl…

.o.o.o.o.

Hermione had woken a few hours into darkness, mind clamped down with sleep.

She could barely see her hand in front of her face, not like the grey hours when she and Malfoy had been walking round the lake.

It must have been very well near midnight. 

Turning her head around, she found herself in the crook of someone's arm.

Looking up, she saw Malfoy's head hanging back against his own shoulder.

Oh, **God**, even in the dark did his hair shine like silver.

Hermione smiled heavily, weighted by fatigue.

How long had it been since she loved him? Loved him like she did Ron and Harry. Like Ginny.

How long?

She didn't trust him, although she wanted to, terribly.

It simply pained her to know that he trusted her when that emotion could not yet be reciprocated.

The impulse to suddenly touch him fizzled through her, running from the tips of her fingers down to a warm knot in her breast.

But…

Hermione now thought.

Was that the feeling the same that she had for Harry? For Ron?

Was that electricity the slight side effects of a brotherly love?

Or something else?

Was it something else?

Hermione yawned, her breath too tired to be packed with such burning questions and slowly did she again rest her head against Malfoy's arm.

Slowly, as if she had never woken, she fell again into sleep.

.o.o.o.o.

"Oh my **God**!"

The voice jarred Draco from his sleep.

Why did he feel so stiff in the back?

"Draco!"

That damned voice again!

Malfoy rubbed his eyes blearily and peered around. Hermione was standing over him, a look of panic on her delicate face.

Twisting, Malfoy caught a handful of dirt and he absently wondered why he was sitting on the ground, with Granger.

Oh.

That's why.

"What?" Malfoy asked, suddenly breathless, a jolt of something sizzling through him.

"What time is it!?" Her voice held a shrill note and not waiting for an answer she continued: "It's morning!" She turned away from him and ran out to the lake, the grass still wet from the rain the night before.

Malfoy cursed, loudly, standing and flicking his wand, the Slytherin blanket and the charm disappearing.

"Come on!" He whispered hurriedly, rushing out of the cropping of trees, cupping Hermione's elbow in his hand, tugging her along to the front steps.

"I hope no one noticed." She murmured, a lopsided smile askew on her lips.

Draco grinned and pulled her up the steps.

The front doors were still parted from their hasty exit the night before and they burst through them, Malfoy roughly pulling them closed behind them.

Their wet shoes made squelching sounds on the stone floor.

They ran, unceremoniously, up the many flights of stairs, light winking from behind the clouds as sunrise crested onto the castle.

"Don't you have to go to the dungeons?" Hermione asked as they took two steps at a time to the Fat Lady's portrait.

Draco shook his head, droplets of water flecking off. He gave a giddy little smirk of a grin.

"What kind of gentleman would I be to let a lady find her own way?" His voice was laced in a thick drawl, per usual.

Hermione smiled.

"Thank you." He murmured.

Hermione laughed under her breath and reached out, patting his arm affectionately.

"Go…" She couldn't think of anything. "…home, Draco. Go home." Laughing, she whispered the password to the Fat Lady and darted inside to the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

A/n- Dude, what is UP with fanfiction dt net?! I can't upload ANYTHING!! I had to export a chapter of a different fic and paste this in! HORRIBLE!

AGH!

...ehhe...

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Next one is already 3 pages long!

Review!!


	16. Snow

A/n- yet another chapter- in ONE day! Oh- and I can't remember when Draco's dad is put into prison and when that relates to the Half Blood Prince, but in _this_ the HBP has not occurred and Mr. Malfoy is in Azkaban (not that it has much to do with the plot). 

Disclaimer: wish it was so, but it's NOT!

Summary: Hermione admits her trust and Draco admits something else (to himself anyway).

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

The snows of deep winter had settled upon the Hogwarts castle, moving in from the sleeting rain to replace the icy chill with a hibernating blanket of silence.

The lake had frozen over, its banks frosted, crackling against the dirt, crested upon the little island in the middle of the lagoon.

Nothing had been uttered openly about Draco and Hermione's little detour in the rain. Just the casual glances between classes, between the assigning of homework.

Yet, when they met, the pair could nearly talk of nothing else for the next month, until that snow had littered the ground with its delicate white.

It was late afternoon then, on a Friday.

Draco stood, in usual quietness upon the snow covered Owlry steps, hands clasped together, leaning upon the stone.

The cold nipped dully at his pale nose and he drew his green and silver scarf round his neck tighter. He sniffed, balancing his broom against his left foot.

"What did you bring that for?" Hermione said as she joined him.

"Thought maybe I'd go out for a little joy ride, eh?" He smirked at her, brightening at her presence. Hermione rolled her eyes, pushing his arm with her mittened hand.

Hermione gave a sigh.

"Did you, you know, talk to your father lately?"

Draco paused, looking at her.

They had discussed, recently, his father.

His father's idiocy.

His father's current incarceration.

"No, I haven't." Malfoy said finally, running a hand through his hair.

"Don't let him get to you." Hermione said matter-of-factly. Draco stared at her. "You're far too bright to be taken advantage of anyone, especially your father."

"You know, at the beginning of the year I would have hexed you for that one."

"Good thing it's not the beginning of the year then, isn't it?" She grinned at him and Draco grinned back, feeling all too comfortable talking about his father.

Draco watched as Hermione reached up to fix his scarf, knotting it in a little tie over around his collar.

"Warm?"

"Very."

"Good."

Malfoy let out a low whistle, tipping the handle of his broom from one hand to the other. He saw Hermione eyeing suspiciously out of the corner of her eye.

"Still not keen on flying, eh, Granger?" The bemusement in his voice was unconcealed. Hermione grimaced, taking the broom from his hands and weighing it in her own.

"Not particularly, no."

Malfoy smirked.

"Well, don't you think we should change all that, then?" His eyes glinted with a dangerous fire, a smoldering, pale gray. His lips were pursed; chin thrust forward into the air.

Hermione blinked at him.

"Well, come on!" Draco reached over and grasped the broom, bringing to his chest and down, swinging a leg over it. One of his feet hooked into the little iron stirrup in the back, the other steadying himself on the ground.

His hand reached out towards Hermione.

If only she would take it.

_Trust me. Draco pleaded inwardly. _

Hermione looked from the broom, to Draco, and then out over the grounds, noting how particularly far down they were.

"I don't like flying, Draco." She murmured, taking a step towards him.

"Ah, but you _adore_ me." The boy drawled. "So hop on."

Hermione threw him a rueful smile and placed her hand within his.

Draco grinned, pulling her a little closer, lifting up her hand as she slid onto the broom in front of him.

"Sure it won't…ah- break? Malfoy?" Hermione gripped the varnished handle in front of her. Draco slipped his hands around her waste to also grasp the front.

"Ready?" He breathed, feeling an odd soaring sensation as he whispered softly next to her ear.

Hermione shook her head 'no'.

"Good." He laughed as he kicked off the ground, somewhat awkwardly due to the extra weight. Yet, the broom's strength held, at least his father had done _something _right by buying it for him.

The Nimbus shot up to the top of the Owlry, the wind buffeting it slightly.

Hermione's weight shifted, tipping them dangerously close to the shingled roof.

A shrill cry escaped her lips and Draco felt her hands clamp down on his.

Grinning, Malfoy leaned out, striking his heel against the roof of the Owlry, rocketing them off into the air, Hermione's shrill noise lost amongst the winter wind.

Draco laughed uproariously, overcome by the fact that someone could be afraid of flying.

"Where do you want to go?" He said, Hermione's back to him, nestled against his chest on the broom.

They had rounded the Astronomy tower.

"The lake." He heard her whisper softly.

Draco let out a quick breath and turned the broom towards the east. He felt Hermione's tense shoulders relax.

Slowly, her hands released his, her arms trailing up so they opened to the wind.

Draco leaned forward, his chin resting upon her shoulder, her chestnut hair slipping softly by his cheek in the wind. Balancing, he let go of the broom and slowly wrapped one arm around her waist, the other pulling his scarf a little tighter around his neck.

"Still scared?" he murmured.

Hermione shook her head, looking out over the frozen water.

"Good." And he tipped the broom into a small dive.

The ice shot up towards them, Hermione's breath coming in a short gasp as they stopped just a foot from the lake's glassy surface.

As if she had complete control over the broom, Hermione leaned down, legs hooked around the handle. Draco dropped his arm that had held her.

Slowly, she let her fingers brush the ice, a little trail of snow sticking to her palm.

Malfoy kicked the broom forward and it slowly circled around the bank, up to the little tuft of island that rested just offshore of the forest.

Hermione sat back up, **a loose pack** of snow in her palms.

"It's a wonderland out here, Draco."

"Mmm."

They touched down tentatively onto the frozen grass, crunching it under their feet. Hermione slid off, standing out upon a fallen tree trunk that jutted over the frozen water, facing the Hogwarts' ground.

Malfoy left his broom by the side **of an outcropping** of rocks and went to her, after she sat herself on a particularly dry part of the trunk. He sat opposite her, watching her calm face.

Her eyes swam with a misty look, a little teary.

Draco's lips parted.

Had he done something?

"Granger?"

The girl sniffed and smiled, a little abashed.

"This is perfect, thank you." Her face was flushed with an excited afterglow.

To Draco, she looked so perfect like that, and that fact surprised him.

The little snow flakes resting in her hair, on her eyelashes.

Malfoy reached out with a hand to draw away the tear that had slid down her cheek, his pale finger resting against her hot cheek.

She wasn't Pansy, her constant bickering only led to Draco's annoyance.

She wasn't Crabb or Goyle, their stupidity unfulfilling to him.

She wasn't Blaise, his jovial attitude never warmed Draco.

She was her own identity to him and he needed that. He needed to be with her, like this. It was when he was with her that he wasn't in the foul mood he always found himself in when around the other Slytherins.

He _needed_ her.

But why?

Draco's eyes widened, his palms hot. He reached up with his other hand, almost in a daze, and cupped her face, his thumbs resting on her cheekbones.

Why?

_…oh God. He thought. _

It was at that moment, with her face in his palms, her breath bellowing up in cones of clouded white, that Hermione changed.

She was _not_ Pansy. She was _not _his cronies. She was _not_ Blaise.

Hermione had shared her hopes and dreams with him.

He had done the same with her.

She was untouchable.

Unchallenged.

Undiscovered.

It was then that Draco finally realized why _he_ had become friends with Hermione Granger… and it was so far from the reasons _she_ had confessed.

It was because…

"Draco?"

His thoughts turned to smoke.

Hermione looked at Malfoy with her brows drawn together, a little worried at his vacant expression.

"I-" He started, unsure of what to say. "Will you come to watch my match tomorrow?"

Inwardly, he grimaced, and let his hands fall down into his lap.

Yet, Hermione's lips parted in a wide smile.

"Slytherin versus Ravenclaw?" Her hands covered his in his lap. "I wouldn't miss it."

And they stayed that way for a little while, holding their hands together, grinning shyly.

* * *

A/n- WELL? I hope you liked this one, it's probably _my_ favorite chapter. More coming soon! Only…wow… 5 more chapters!!!! EXCITED?!

And I'm sorry to my beta writer Mika because I e-mailed this to her, then like three hours lator, posted. Without her beta! I had really wanted to post this as soon as I could, so I didn't wait! Eeek! Sowy! Much loves, Mika! (This goes to all those reading too, if there are mistakes, its my fault!)

Please review, it gives me warm fuzzies!


	17. Games

A/n- Well, I do hope everyone enjoyed the last chapter! Nothen much more to say then 'thanks' to everyone to reviewed and to everyone who's reading! 

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter… oh think of the possibilities!

Summary: The yarn begins to unravel.

* * *

**Jackknifed**

* * *

Draco had flown Hermione up to the top of the Owlry, dipping low so her feet touched the stone.Hermione slid off, tentatively, clasping Draco's hand so she wouldn't fall, touching her shoes down onto the packed snow. Her hand, although she was firmly grounded, was still lofted.

"See you tomorrow." Malfoy murmured, dipping the broom a little lower, although he did not touch down. "You're sure you'll come?"

Hermione nodded.

"Why wouldn't I?" She smiled, her cheeks feeling warm against the winter wind.

Draco smiled back, bringing her fingers to him, brushing them softly with his lips, a pink tinge upon his face, Hermione's too.

As the broom dipped to the wind, their hands, that little connection, wavered. It would become taunt as the broom rose and slack as it dipped.

But gradually, they had to let go, if only for a moment, if only for a day.

Hermione watched as Malfoy spurred his broom higher and out to the Quidditch pitch. She waved, but he hadn't, he just turned round and smiled, a soothing, real smile. That was all she needed to feel his affection.

.o.o.o.o.

"Oh, is it not an absolutely **perfect** day?"

Both Harry and Ron looked up from their positions in front of the Common Room fire. They watched as Hermione bounded down from the girl's dorm, nearly two steps at a time, beaming at them.

"Where've you been?" Ron barked from his Transfiguration homework. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him, still grinning.

"What ever do you mean, Ronald?"

"We didn't see you last night."

Hermione waved a hand flippantly.

_"Library." _

"But it was Friday! You have all weekend!"

"No, I don't" She said matter of factly. "_I'm_ going to watch the Quidditch match today and wanted to finish my work early." She paused for a moment. "Why don't you two come with me, I could always use the company."

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"I've got work, mate." Ron said flatly.

"I'll go with you, Hermione." Harry smiled, setting down his book. Hermione clapped her hands together. "Ravenclaw and Slytherin, right?" Hermione nodded. "Hmm, should be a good game, if Malfoy does a few more aerial tricks I'd say I'd be worth watching."

Ron snorted.

"Maybe a Quidditch post'll impale the bastard."

"Ron!"

But they ignored her, both laughing heartily.

Hermione folded her arms, looking out the window at the snowy landscape, the iced Quidditch pitch, like a little cupcake, the goals like candles.

For a moment she let her mind wander away, thinking how perfect it would be to sit alone in those stands and watch Malfoy catch the snitch- just for her.

Maybe they'd kiss, chastely, for the first time, her leaning out over the railing, Draco on the back of his broom, hovering just near her.

She wished he'd had kissed her yesterday, with the snow falling all around them, his hands cupping her face, his pale eyes gazing deeply into hers.

His eyes.

They filled her vision when he looked at her.

Ah… Hermione sighed inwardly. So this was what love was like, then.

That little admittance should have shocked Hermione. It was _Malfoy_ after all! But instead, her face flushed and she grasped at the faint hope that he felt the same.

"Hermione. Hermione? Mate, she's gone all…" And Ron made a little swirling motion with his hands over his head.

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron and tugged on Hermione's sleeve. Her eyes widened and she swiveled her head around to look at them. Harry grinned.

"We're going to be late if you don't stop daydreaming." He said with a laugh in his voice.

Hermione nodded, a small smile appearing on her lips.

Ron waved to them as they exited the portrait hole.

"You know, Hermione, we should have waited for Ron to finish…" Harry sighed as they walked down the steps to the Entrance Hall, second guessing his decision. A crowd of students milled about, also going to the game.

Hermione's brows drew together in a worried look.

"Why?" She didn't have the faintest idea what he was getting at.

"Well, you know." Harry adjusted his glasses, rubbing his right shoulder where a quaffle had hit him the week before, absently. "I think he fancies you." His voice pitched low at the last part.

Hermione choked and Harry gave her a look.

"I- really?"

Harry snorted but said nothing, Hermione fiddled with her scarf.

They didn't say another word until they were out on the grounds, trudging through the snow on the way to the pitch.

"Why did you want to see Quidditch? I thought you hated it." Harry helped Hermione up the steps of the Ravenclaw stands. Hermione shrugged, avoiding his gaze but murmuring something under her breath.

They sat in the front row with the rest of the Ravenclaw house, a few Hufflepuffs, and even fewer Gryffindors.

Hermione looked out over to the Slytherin side of the pitch, watching the players mount their broom and rocket into the air. Everyone around her hissed as they flew past, yet, Hermione stayed silent.

Draco lofted himself high above the goal posts, his silver hair nearly shining the snow flurry. Hermione caught a glimpse of his Slytherin scarf bellowing out from around his neck.

She couldn't see his face though, through all the wind and white.

Harry and the crowd around Hermione stood, jumping to their feet as a Slytherin Chaser whizzed by their head, cheering as three Ravenclaws tailed him in pursuit.

A cheer went up and Hermione started off her seat, gasping.

Draco was in a dive, yet, his broom spun sharply sideways as a bludger nearly unseated him.

Harry nudged her arm, grinning, and Hermione gave a weak smile back.

"Maybe Ron'll be right." He said nastily.

"Mmm."

"What?"

"Oh- uhm, hope so, yeah." Hermione buried her face in her gloves briefly.

This was such a bad idea, coming to the match, bringing Harry with her. What was she thinking? Bloody idiot!

Draco dipped downward, sharply, avoiding another player as he sped down the pitch. Hermione's hands balled into fists on her knees.

_Just don't get hurt. She pleaded silently. _

She lost sight of him for a moment and she went still, waiting, the crowd around her erupting at another Ravenclaw score.

She didn't see Harry looking at her, noticing her tension, her quietness, the way her eyes darted uneasily around the field.

Before he could ask her what was wrong, Malfoy shot up out of no where in front of them, the snitch inches away from his finger tips. The crowd jumped back in shock, a noise rising into the air like a jet engine slowly turning over.

Harry heard a loud intake of breath from his right, Hermione uttering a surprised noise.

The snitch darted back and forth, climbing up and up. Malfoy rolled over and was able to graze the golden flicker with his fingertips.

Hermione tensed.

Malfoy's glove closed around the beating wings, his broom leveling out, his body twisted nearly all the way over. He descended slowly, letting his broom down as he righted himself.

Hermione bit down on her lips to stop from smiling.

"That was a quick game." Harry sighed, sounding disappointed.

"Yes." Hermione squeaked out.

Malfoy dipped down in front of the stands, off a ways towards the middle of the pitch. He cupped his hands together, yelling.

"Oiy, Potter, that's how you play Quidditch!"

Harry ignored him, but Hermione looked up to meet his eyes. Malfoy dropped his hands, his sadistic smirk falling, and just looked at her, a small flicker in the back of his eyes.

"Come on, Hermione, we don't need Malfoy leering at you." Harry grabbed her upper arm and pulled her along into the crowd exiting the stands. Hermione didn't try and wrench her arm out of his grasp; she knew that if she put up a fight it would be even more suspicious.

Draco still sat on his broom, watching as Hermione ducked out of sight. His grip around the snitch tightened.

Hermione and Harry rounded the pitch, starting out towards the castle.

"Waste of time, sorry bout that Hermione." Harry said good-naturedly. "Knew you wanted a fun game." He seemed to think that Slytherin losing was preferable to her.

Overhead, a green and silver blur flew. They both looked up to see Draco Malfoy, still on his broom, rounding above the Greenhouses and off to the other side of the castle.

"Wonder where that prat's going."

Hermione said nothing.

She knew where he was going.

"Hey, Harry." She said, turning to him with a big smile. "Thanks for coming with me; I really needed some fresh air!" She clasped the boy in a brief hug. "I think I forgot my bag in the Library, I'm going to go get it. I'll see you later."

She ran off towards the castle, Harry looking after her.

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

Library!

Typical Hermione.

He smiled and shook his head, headed towards the Common Room, meeting Dean Thomas half way there.

"Hey, Harry, exciting game, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded absently.

"Kind of a nice little detour from the Potion's homework, I'll tell you." The boy continued. "I mean, come on, I've been working on it for three days and I'm still not done."

Harry's eyes went wide.

"Oh, no." He murmured. Dean looked at him. "I completely forgot about that." The other boy laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You better get started, mate"

Harry laughed, uttering a small thanks, running up the stairs to the Portrait Hole.

"Fanged Frisbees." He stated, standing in front of the large woman leaning against her gilded frame. She set the tea she was sipping down upon a tiny little table opposite her.

"What are you in such a rush for?" Her voice, a little too high, grated on Harry's mind; he grit his teeth.

"Look, are you going to open or not?"

The Fat Lady sniffed disapprovingly, looking down her nose at him as she swung open.

Harry clamored in and saw Ron asleep on the couch in front of the fire.

_So much for getting your homework done, eh?_ Harry thought, grinning.

He sat down opposite and pushed his Charms homework, Transfiguration homework, and Hurbology homework out of the way, pulling his Potions paper towards him.

Sucking on a sugar quill, Harry rummaged through the paper, writing a scattered sentence every so often about the ten uses of something or other.

Half an hour ticked by and the sugary sweet Harry had indulged in was gone.

The homework, however, still remained.

Harry squinted at a particularly challenging question, a hand in his hair, tousling it. His nose was scrunched up, eyes focused.

What was the answer?

He hadn't taken any notes last week… why didn't he ever take any notes in class?

_Oh. He thought, setting down his quill, picking up his bag. _

Hermione always took notes, didn't she?

She was in the Library right then, wasn't she?

He'd just pop in and ask for some help, it wouldn't bother her.

Giving a reproachful look at Ron, Harry got up and left the Common Room.

* * *

A/N- kind of longer then usual... ten guesses where Hermione is!

Three more chapters & an epilogue comming up next.

You know, I really like being able to update so fast, although that means that the story is over with quicker. But, hey, school starts again Monday so you'll have to wait at least a week for the next one, that long enough?

Next one is nearly all Harry's POV, weird, init?

Review!


	18. Maps

A/n- Fanfiction dt net is STILL not working. Geez, how annoying! 

Disclaimer: I can't think of any more witty responses to this.

Summary: Mostly Harry, but then, I thought of how mean that would be, not having any Draco/Hermione moments, so they have a little bit of air time.

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

Harry wrapped his cloak tighter around his body, the chilling halls channeling the cold wind outside.

The portraits overhead cast long shadows upon the ground and upon Harry's figure as he walked.

His steps echoed off the stone walls, a hollow sound.

It gave Harry the creeps, although he wasn't sure why. He always felt at ease in the castle, but something about it in winter just threw him off balance.

Maybe it was because the snow packed in around the stone, hibernating the people within, creating a tomb of silence and bitter white.

And the cold.

It chilled Harry down to his bones, that cold.

Half way down the stairs towards the Library, Harry nearly turned back, weighing the risk and the reward of this little endeavor.

It was just homework wasn't it? It didn't need to get finished that badly. Just wait for Hermione to come back.

But something made him continue on, passing a few groups of students milling about the Entrance Hall.

.o.o.o.o.

Hermione stepped gingerly up to the Owlry, careful not to slip on the icy stone.

Reaching the top, she leaned over the side of the stone railing, looking out over the white snow covered grounds, breathing in a chill that scalded her lungs with a refreshing cold.

She blinked away the snow that had gathered on her eyelashes, blowing hot air into her palms to warm her face.

She stood, alone, for a good five minutes, looking up and over at the sky, completely grey, watching for a little flicker of green or a streak of white gold.

Someone made a noise behind her.

Twisting, she saw Draco land softly upon the Owlry staircase, his broom in his hand, his other clasped in a fist. He still wore his Quiddich uniform, the leather squeaking slightly as he moved.

Hermione grinned, watching him step up onto the landing, leaving his broom leaning against the stone.

He reached out to her, grasping her hand with his leather glove.

Hermione looked up at him with large eyes, his gaze down to her palm.

A rosy color held within his face, either from being windswept or from her contact, it was the same.

He smiled and placed his fist within her cupped palms, slowly letting go of whatever was in his hand.

Hermione felt a thrill run through her.

.o.o.o.o.

Harry stepped over the threshold of the Library, looking around, vaguely aware of the way Madam Pince was glaring at him.

He ducked behind a pile of books, walking up and down the book cases, peering in each row, looking over the heads of a few students, straining to see if Hermione was hidden behind them.

She wasn't.

This troubled Harry and a slightly swell of annoyance began to rise.

Thinking maybe she was seated at one of the Library tables, he moved away from the books.

She wasn't there either.

He searched for another good five minutes.

She still wasn't there!

Harry even looked in the Forbidden Books section.

She wasn't there.

Very annoyed now, Harry went up to the front desk of the Library, leaning against the wood.

"Uh, Madam Pince?"

The woman looked up at him over her glasses.

"Huuhmmmm?"

"Well, you see ma'am, I was looking for Hermione Granger."

"She is not here." Madam Pince looked down at her book again.

"I know she's not here."

The woman looked back up at him.

"I was just wondering if you had seen her. She said she was coming down here."

Pince shook her head. "I haven't seen the girl for a while now, only comes in about once every other week. Most unusual! Now, if you mind!" She looked down at her book, finished the conversation.

A cold chill swept over Harry.

Every couple of weeks?

Not in a while?

Didn't she always tell him and Ron that she was going down to the Library? He could see if she would get sidetracked some of the time, but when she came back they _always_ asked how it was and she had said fine.

Had she lied?

Without thanking the Librarian, Harry ran out.

.o.o.o.o.

The little golden snitch was vibrating softly in Hermione's palm.

She had taken off her glove.

It hummed, its wings twitching every so often, its body warm against Hermione's skin.

"I- Draco." She whispered, turning the object over and over again in her hand, the wings furling and unfurling as they rotated.

"I caught it."

Hermione laughed.

"I know." She said softly, feeling Draco touch her arm.

"Careful." He said sharply, the snitch's wings suddenly beat hummingbird fast.

They watched it flit for a moment in Hermione's palm, darting up to fly around their heads, dipping in and out of the pair, round and around.

Hermione lost sight of it for a moment, yet, Draco's eyes, sharper, held the little streak of gold until it zoomed off back towards the quiddich pitch.

Malfoy grinned, Hermione smiling back.

.o.o.o.o.

Harry ran out of the Great Hall almost in frenzy.

She wasn't there either.

What if something happened?

He could never forgive himself.

Harry sprinted back up the stairs towards the Common Room, nearly running in to a group of girls heading in the opposite direction. Yelling the password at the Portrait, it swung open, and he burst in

Those milling about looked over at the boy who was clamoring through.

"Have any of you seen Hermione?" He gasped.

Lavender, Dean, a little first year, and a gaggle of other people Harry didn't bother to identify all shook their heads.

"Someone must have seen her!"

No answer, just complete silence.

Harry ran over to the couch Ron was at, still sleeping. He tried to shake him awake but the boy just murmured, turning over.

It was then that Harry had an idea.

Sprinting up to his dorm, Harry skidded to his knees in front of his chest of drawers, pulling off the lid.

Rummaging through, tossing a few pairs of socks onto his bed, Harry pulled out a very old a wrinkled piece of parchment.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He murmured, tapping his wand to the page.

Ink bloomed under his hands, stretching out like veins, covering the pages with intricate passageways.

Sitting down upon his gold and red comforter, Harry pulled his legs up, the map against his lap.

Slowly, he picked through the map, piece by piece, double-checking and rechecking all the places he had already looked.

Plus ones he didn't.

The empty classrooms.

Hagrid's hut.

The fringes of the forest.

Even the quiddich pitch!

With a frustrated yell he tossed the paper across the room, it falling into a little crumple on the ground. As if unfurling, a flap on the upper right corner of the map un-creased, folding down upon itself, revealing a little square of parchment Harry hadn't even looked at.

The Owlry.

Disgusted with himself at not finding his friend, Harry squatted down in front of the map, taking it into his hands and looking at it, slightly dumbstruck.

There she was, a little dot, **Hermione Granger**.

Harry laughed, relieved, but then…

**Draco Malfoy. **

Harry squinted at the paper, disbelieving.

The dots moved away from each other in a swift motion, a rise of anger swelling within Harry.

How dare he corner her!

What if he attacked her?

But then, Hermione moved closer to him, willingly, the two dots blending into a little stain of black.

Understanding slowly crashed upon Harry and all the pieces of what had been happening for the past months clicked into place.

Her absence…

Her little smiles in Potion's class…

The Quiddich game…

Pain flickered across Harry's featured as he folded up the map, calmly placing it back into his trunk.

Calm.

Calm.

Breath.

Breath.

His heart thumped dully against his eardrums.

A sudden cry of anger bubbled up from deep within him and Harry kicked violently at his four poster bed.

* * *

A/n- Told you I'd update sooner!!!

Will Harry confront Hermione? Will he tell Ron?

What will Draco say?

Please review!


	19. Refraction

A/n- Long wait, sorry! I hate to keep saying that it's because of homework… but it's because of homework. Such a cop out! 

Disclaimer: By now you should know the answer to this question.

Summary: The breakdown.

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

Harry woke with a crick in his neck, his head lying partly on his pillow and partly against the rock hard headboard.

For a moment, he wasn't quite sure why he was still in his cloths, shoes… glasses.

Why the Marauder's Map was perched precariously, blank, on his bedside table.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked out the curtained window.

The sun shown down, hard packed snow void of a fresh layer of powder. The light bounded into the room, splashing over Ron's bed. Harry watched the boy for a few moments before getting up, readjusting his sweater, and grabbing the blank map.

"Ugh." He groaned, murmuring quietly. "What time is it?"

" Six o'clock in the morning, dear!" A wheezing voice from an old mirror in the corner blurted lazily. 

Harry snorted at it.

Six o'clock on a Sunday morning, what was he thinking?

He rubbed his eyes blearily.

Slowly, Harry reached for the dormitory door handle, twisting it and pulling open the squeaky wood with barely an audible sound. He closed it behind him, tapping the lock against the frame rather loudly by mistake.

Harry's shoes made hollow sounds all the way down the steps to the Common Room where he sat comfortably in front of the fire, chin resting in his palm, dozing, thinking.

.o.o.o.o.

Hermione pulled on her knee socks, a jumpy little excitement bursting forth from her cold fingers to rest comfortably in a beamy smile.

She was going to meet Draco that morning.

She was going to meet Draco.

She was going to meet-

The smile widened upon her lips.

They would rendezvous at the Owlry then steal down to the Kitchens to have an early morning breakfast of honeyed milk and toast.

Hermione glanced up at the clock hanging over the dormitory doorway, its golden pendulum swinging back and forth lethargically.

Ten after six.

Perfect.

Cautiously, she made her way down to the Common Room.

A pang of guilt seeped through her at the sight of Harry asleep on one of the poufs.

Had he been waiting all night for her to return? She _had_ come in late… but she hadn't seen him there.

It was so wrong, deceiving them like this… but what else was she to do? If they every found out… it would be her and Draco's murder as the consequence.

Crookshanks blinked away from the hearth rug, purring and mewing loudly.

"Shh." Hermione pleaded softy. "Shh."

But the cat had jumped up onto the table next to where Harry was dozing.

Hermione bolted towards the portrait hole.

"What!" A surprised voice said behind her. "Ron? Oh… Hermione?" Something in his voice made the girl stop.

"Yea, Harry?" She tried to make it sound even, inconspicuous.

"Where are you going?" The boy slowly got up from his chair with his back to her, not a trace of sleep in his voice.

False sweetness…

There was a false sweetness in his voice…

Hermione noted how similar his words and hers sounded.

Like a lie.

Hermione's blood ran a sudden chill, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

He knew.

"Harry… Harry," She started.

But Harry was already up, looking into the fire, hands dropped by his sides, clenching first tightly then loosely.

Hermione was riveted to the spot.

"Don't go."

"What?" Hermione choked out.

He was being civil?

"Just don't go, Hermione." Harry turned, a small smile granted to her as he rounded the chairs to stand in front of her a few paces.

Hermione laughed.

"It's not that simple, Harry."

His face darkened.

"Of course it is, Hermione. Don't go and just forget about it… _I'll_ forget about it."

"I can't do that Harry." Hermione clutched her book bag to her, as if it would be some kind of protection.

"Yes you can." He said, forcefully, taking a step towards her. "I don't want you to get hurt, Hermione. He will hurt you. It's Malfoy!"

Hermione shook her head.

"No."

It was such a** small** word.

Harry's eyes became wide, his body thrust slightly forward.

"Hermione!"

"Stop Harry…"

"No, I won't stop. He's a no good Slytherin and you know it. He's using you, Hermione, that's all he's doing and when he's done he'll throw you away. You're not like him, he knows it, you know it, and whatever he says to you won't change that fact!" He was getting desperate, Hermione could tell, but she still couldn't look at him. Tears leaking out from her eyes splashed down onto her front. "You're a Gryffindor, Hermione. He's Slytherin. It can't work, it won't work. What will his kin say about it? You'll be killed by those Deatheaters, killed! Is he worth that, Hermione? Is he worth _that_?"

"Yes!"

Harry stopped short, his mouth open, eyes wide.

Hermione let out a choking sob.

"How did you know?" She spoke finally, quietly, the silence around her deafening.

Harry said nothing but reached over the chair he had been sitting at, grabbing the parchment off the seat harshly. He stalked over to Hermione and shoved it in her arms.

Seeing the blank map made Hermione choke out another sob.

Looking up into his green eyes, Hermione saw only a twinge of that fierce anger. Nearly the whole of his vision fell on her with a pleading look of pity.

Hermione held tighter to the map, turned her shoulder slightly, and then bolted away from him.

Harry didn't try and stop her, the portrait hold banging shut.

He let out a long sigh.

"Mate?"

He turned to see Ron blinking down at him from atop the stairs, his night shirt sitting askew on his shoulders.

"Uh?" Harry breathed.

"I heard voices, you all right?"

Harry opened his mouth but slowly closed it.

Was he going to tell?

Just like that?

It was _Hermione_.

"… no, Ron, sorry. Must have been your imagination."

The boy shrugged and turned around to stumble back to bed.

Harry buried his face in his hands.

.o.o.o.o.

Draco lounged against the Owlry's stone, a clear, dry patch of ground under him, the snow magiked away.

His eyes were closed and he breathed in a deep draught of morning air.

Fresh.

A small noise made him raise his head, open one eye.

Looking down over his right arm he saw Hermione running up the stone steps, parchment clutched in her hands, her bag swinging over one arm- having fallen off her shoulder.

Draco's brows knit.

Was she crying?

He slowly sat up and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward.

Before he could say a word, she flung herself into his arms, crumpling down onto the ground, her body against his, sobbing into his school shirt.

"Granger…" He breathed, but she continued to cry, Draco's arms clasping her shoulders. "Granger, what's wrong? Granger… Granger…Hermione?"

Slowly she pulled herself off him and he could see her red eyes, her frail body shaken, her distresses.

"What happened?" He whispered, a hand brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. His pale eyes searched hers.

"They know, Draco, oh God." She sucked in her breath.

The color drained from Malfoy's pale face.

"What?"

His worst fear… this wasn't happening… this couldn't happen.

"It's this!" She pushed the paper into his arms and Draco took it from her shaking hands, looking at it as if she were crazy.

"Hermione!"

"I-I solemnly swear I am up- up to no good."

Draco's breath caught in his lungs as he watched life bloom under his fingers.

"Where did you get this?

"Harry…"

"He knows?"

Could she see the way _his_ hands shook?

Hermione nodded and Draco became silent, turning the map over and over in his hands.

"The weasel too?"

"I don't think so…oh God, Draco. What are we going to do?"

"What can we do?" He looked at her shocked face, his own ridden with a sad and guilty look. Slowly, he pulled her to him, his hands grasping her arms.

She looked so distraught.

Distraught yet… angelic.

How was that?

"It's my fault." She was murmuring. "Would it matter, Draco?"

The boy shook his head slowly, barely hearing her.

It couldn't end like this…

Hermione continued to babble, fresh tears erupting in her eyes. "If you weren't so pure!? If I wasn't so dirty?! Would it matter?! To them?! To you?!"

Draco looked at her sharply, incredulously, and snapped his hands out to grab her face roughly, pulling her close, closer then she had ever been to him. Her eyes darted over his pale face.

Malfoy's heart pounded in his ears.

"Don't say that, Hermione. Never say that. You are more pure then any pure blood." He hands shook, holding her like that.

Hermione hiccoughed.

_Tell her_. Draco pleaded with himself.

She was so close.

_Tell her._

Her eyes, clear from crying, gazed into his.

_Tell her you love her._

"Hermione… remember, long ago- what seems like so long ago- you told me why you had befriended me? Why you thought we were meant to meet, denounce our Houses, our teachings, and become… this?" Hermione nodded, slowly. "You told me why but I never said a word. My reasons were so different, Hermione…"

His grip on her loosened.

"I met you and from that moment, when we were barely eleven, I wanted you. I wanted to possess you but I couldn't even touch you. I hated you and I wanted so badly for that hate to own every fiber of your being. I tortured Potter and Weasel but I couldn't get under _your_ skin…"

For a fleeting moment Hermione thought of instances when that wasn't completely true.

"I wanted that, that evil to seep into your blood and destroy who you were. I didn't understand it, Hermione. You were a muggleborn, an object, a toy I could not have. But I still wanted it. Now…I don't think it's that simple anymore…"

Hermione was crying again.

"I realized soon after we drank those sweet drinks of Butterbeer together, that I couldn't possess you against your will, so I stopped trying…and then... you opened to me. You gave your trust and your friendship to me. I now possess **that,** but not **you**, Hermione; I know that now and accept it without greed or malice. I can't ever control you. Potter can't ever control you. Weasel can't ever control you. You are who you are, Hermione. I can't tell you who you are and they can't tell you who to befriend, who to like, who to _love_.

Hermione's face pained.

"Draco, _I _lo-"

But he put a finger to her lips, looking away and thrusting a hand into his pocket.

Slowly, he brought out his pocketknife, the thing that had started the whole affair. With a dull noise his thumb ran over the green varnish and flicked the blade up and open.

The metal no longer glittered evilly up at them, but refracted the light of the pitch whiteness around the two, rebounding off the snow and blinding their eyes with something silvery… something akin to a thin thread of terrible hope.

His pale eyes glanced up at Hermione's as he brought the blade up to his hand.

The mark made many months before had turned pink, scar like. But the wound reopened as Draco brought the blade lightly again his skin, paper cut like, yet beads of blood welled on the surface. Tentatively, he cupped Hermione's hand in the fingers of his cut hand, bringing the blade closer.

She never said a word as an identical little line of red appeared on her skin.

"I do not regret a single action I've taken." He whispered, his voice quiet, the usual drawl missing from his speech.

"Nor do I." Hermione returned, a small smile on her tear streaked face.

They clasped their hands together, crimson blood mingling. The pureblood and the muggleborn, together reaching an intimate level that before would never have been possible.

Draco drew Hermione to him in a half hug, her face buried in his shoulder.

He felt like crying, but it wouldn't come.

"Go back to your House." He whispered to her. "Tend to your friendships…"

"I will meet you-"

"No, Hermione." Draco smiled bitterly. "If we can't do this." He pulled away to look at her. "If this won't work, then I won't force it. Your friends, your loyalties, they are more important then anything any Slytherin could give to you. Anything _I_ could give you."

His whole body ached as Hermione pulled away, standing, looking down at her smeared hand. She nodded slowly.

She knew, even if there was to be something… how could it work?

Even if they both wanted it.

How _could_ it.

"I… Draco…" Hermione looked at him as her voice died away.

He simply nodded.

Hermione nodded too, turning, heaving her book bag back upon her shoulder, folding the map neatly into a little square. Slowly, she started walking down the Owlry steps.

Draco listened to her footfalls; slow at first, yet they broke into a run before she reached the bottom.

Looking up at the risen sun in the sky, Draco tried to smile.

It was for the best.

Wasn't it?

And then the tears came.

* * *

A/n- Again, sorry for the wait, hope the long chapter was worth it. Two more to go! Excited much?!?!

REVIEW! The fic is almost over, this is one of your last chances! REVIEW!


	20. Fate

A/n- So, I have decided to break chapter 20 into two parts because I would like to punctuate a certain action with a pause between chapters. Don't fret- this won't make either exceedingly short, just more poignant. 

Disclaimer: I laugh at you.

Summary: Quite possibly the first time Draco Malfoy admits to having made an error.

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

He had read, somewhere, in a muggle history text Hermione had brought one day- much to Draco's initial chagrin- a section on the Roman Empire. For the life of him, Draco had no idea what had brought him to even take an interest in the document, but there it was. 

The fact of the matter was that not a single piece of information had really stayed with Malfoy, save one, a quote from the Emperor Marcus Aurelius:

"_Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart._"

Now, sitting ridged in the Great Hall at breakfast, naught but two painful weeks and a day after his and Hermione's silent defeat- if you could call the little breakdown silent- Draco wished he had remembered that tidbit of seemingly useless information when it would have counted.

Pushing around his bacon with a fork, Draco came to one unimaginable and unutterable conclusion:

He was an idiot.

.o.o.o.o.

If someone, afterward, would have asked Draco what he did on that balcony after Hermione had left, the Slytherin would have sworn he couldn't remember. If only it was that simple, if only that was the whole truth.

After blinking away half-dried tears, the boy fell spent against the stone, his head back, his legs pulled up into a crossed position.

He laughed then, a piteous sound gurgling stirring up from his chest, which seemed ripped; voice hoarse from the strangled noises he suppressed. Something had snapped within his soul, a kind of high-wire that had slowly been becoming more and more stable in the recent days. Well, that was shot to hell.

The laugh spilled into the chilly morning, and Draco doubled over, sides in stitches, cracking up so jovially his stomach turned to knots. He thought of Potter's face when he found out, of the Weasel's if he did, the faces of Zabini, Pansy, his father, Snape- oh god it was too comical.

Hermione's face flashed in front of his eyes, her soft curly hair, her pursed lip smile, those knowing eyes… all drenched in sadness.

Draco didn't know when his laughter had dissolved into wracking sobs, but they had, and when he raised himself to his feat, he was still sucking in surprised breaths.

That was the point at which, after, Draco couldn't really remember much. He kept on tapping his own head with his wand, murmuring any kind of anti-headache charm; pick-me-up spell; or calming conjuration he could think of, stumbling sullenly thought the halls.

They worked too, like a immense draught of sleeping pills; and the only indication Draco had that he had made it back to his Common Room was the fact that he was laying face down on the hearth rug a few hours later- when a fellow Slytherin had had the common courtesy to nudge him with their foot on the way to breakfast. Malfoy was slightly perturbed when he found out, a few days after, that people had walked by all morning while he lay there, motionless, before someone had thought that they should check if he was still breathing.

Regardless, Draco, at the slight touch of the sole, had jerked himself awake, twitching so violently that the fellow with the foot jumped back in shock, the girl he was with letting out a shriek of comic surprise.

Draco glared up at the girl and as she caught sight of him, her voice died in her throat. She glanced at her companion, an eyebrow raised and a slightly uncomfortable look on her face. The boy grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

Malfoy, sitting up slowly, rested the palm of his hand against his forehead.

Dear Lord, what was becoming of him?

Zabini tried to wave him over, but Draco ignored him, standing awkwardly in the middle of the Common Room for a few moments, staring off into nothing, his pale eyes widening, turning to slits, then widening again.

Finally, as if someone had slapped the boy up round the head, Malfoy clicked out of his stupor. Heaving a long sigh, he starting down towards the staircase leading to his lower dorm.

He prayed silently that no one would follow him.

The solid oak door of the dorm closed shut with a vacuum like thud, reverberating round the small room, tomb like.

This did not lighten Draco's mood.

Sitting gingerly down on his four poster, he shouldered off his cloak, hanging it down over the edge of the bed, proceeding to then pull his sweater over his head.

Malfoy felt extremely constricted; something only to be elevated by the removal of clothing. He reached for his shirt collar.

Sitting back against the headboard, now shirtless, Draco ran a hand through his hair.

Why hadn't he said something when he had the chance?

A few days passed after that Sunday, and a few after that. Malfoy had tried to forget all about Hermione- what they could have been and what they were, but it was impossible.

Instead he poured himself into his work, Quidditch having lost most of its appeal after the game on Wednesday in which he had looked down expecting to see Hermione in the stands and quickly realized that she wasn't going to be there.

Now, he showed up for class, was early even. Snape was so giddy; he nearly didn't know what to do with himself. Some days, on rare occasion, although it was becoming a slight more frequent, the Potion's Master would open his door prior to class and see the blond already standing opposite the hallway.

It was painful in that Potions class, as Draco knew it would be. He sat, silently, taking notes on a borrowed roll of parchment, not but feet from the Gryffindors.

There was no way to express his fury when they joked with her, like nothing was wrong. It only gave him a sick sense of gratification to hear her say nothing back, their voices dying flatly against the awkward silence no one could detect.

_He _could detect it.

And it was driving him mad.

"You're not eating." A voice had called to him that night while he toiled over the Potion's homework.

Draco ignored Pansy's concern and only focused more readily on the parchment.

As if fishing for a fight, Pansy had repeated herself no less then three more times, adding on the end of the last…

"You think I don't notice."

So what?

That concern, that **fake** concern, only infuriated Malfoy further and soon after Pansy's snide comment, Draco had ceased sleeping as well.

It was just, every time he closed his eyes, he saw her; her smile, her laughter, her lips so close to his yet never touching.

And throughout his emotional and physical starvation, Malfoy continued to ask himself the same two questions:

Why had he done it?

and

Had he done the right thing?

.o.o.o.o.

Now, glaring at his untouched bacon, those questions were still running through Draco's head.

He had pushed her away, called it off, for her own protection.

It was safer to hedge his fear- the fear of the love he felt, the fear of… something unattainable finally becoming such- on some noble act, like he was _saving_ her or something daft like that.

It was not because he was frightened of what Potter or what the Weasel might have done to him, not what the Slytherins would have done, not even what his father would have done that scared Malfoy to the point at which he pushed her away.

He did it to protect her.

There was that innate fear that, if they did defy society, Hermione would be put into a situation where Draco could not save her.

And Draco would die if anything happened to her.

The blond reached for his fork and stabbed a sausage, glancing up to his goblet of orange juice, raising his eyes just a fraction over the table… he saw her, sitting opposite him at the Gryffindor table.

She was smiling, only the corners of her mouth upturned slightly in order to hide her sadness.

He paused, the fork halfway to his lips, a breath caught in his chest.

As terror overtook him, Hermione turned her head and their eyes locked.

Draco ceased to breath, Hermione's ghostly smile fading away.

_Protect her._

There was such a look of longing in her gaze.

He was _protecting_ her.

But then, if she was willing to risk that, her life, would not his honor of that risk be worth more then her so-called safety?

Was his protection denying her the right to put her life on the line? For him?

For them?

Draco's stomach clenched from hunger, his body drained from fatigue.

It wasn't worth it anymore, his pain, _their_ pain.

Hermione, as if seeing the turmoil rolling silently in Draco's gaze, became stiff.

She could sense his distress, sense his frustration.

She knew what he was going to do.

Slowly, fractionally, she moved her head to the left, then to the right.

_No._ She was saying with her eyes, but Draco wasn't listening anymore.

His fork clattered onto his plate

* * *

Hermione had come down to the Great Hall that Monday morning with Harry at one shoulder and Ron on the other.

It was easy to do this, to walk, silently, nodding every once in a while to an offhand joke while not really hearing a single word. Doll-like, awake when instructed and lifeless when convenient.

It wasn't that Hermione was becoming depressed or anything, she still found joy in the same things she had before Harry had found out. It was that her heart was broken; she needed time to mend and recover; from Draco's absence, from Harry's crulety.

It surprised Hermione that she didn't hate Draco for what he had said that Sunday morning.

Even more surprising was that she slightly agreed with him.

Perhaps it_ was_ too good to be true. Perhaps he _was_ right in telling her to choose life over love.

In truth, Hermione blamed Harry and Ron for her shredded feelings. They were the ones who hated Malfoy, detested him, and forced Hermione to choose between her friends and her heart.

Sitting down that morning, Hermione came to one unimaginable and unutterable conclusion:

She loved Draco and, given the choice again, would forsake Harry and Ron for him.

.o.o.o.o.

Two weeks prior to that breakfast, Hermione promptly ran back to the Common Room following her and Draco's termination.

Bitterly, Hermione wished she had the Time Turner.

As the portrait hole closed, Hermione threw the Marauder's Map down on the floor, glaring at it.

Somone across the room stirred.

"Hermione?"

"What Harry?" She snapped, glaring at him, tears still fresh in her eyes.

"Did you… you know?" He started awkwardly, leaning off the chair he was perched on, hands clasped, as if he had been waiting for her.

"What?" Hermione snapped again.

"End it?"

Hermione let out a long breath which came out in a whistle.

"If you must know, _he_ ended it and not because he wanted to break my heart either."

Harry gave a 'humph' sound.

Oh, that was enough to set her off.

"Your so pompous, Harry Potter! Do you have any reason _why_ he-"

"To _break your heart_. It's Malfoy, we discussed this."

"To save our friendship, Harry!" Hermione exasperated. "He was worried that what we had become would destroy your, mine, and Ron's camaraderie! He said that my loyalties to Gryffindor were worth more then what he could give me! "

_Your such a liar, Granger!_ Hermione thought bitterly._ Loyalties mean nothing to you without him._

Harry stood, slowly, brushing off his trousers as he looked at her. His hand rested on his hip, his gaze calculating, as if he was seeing her for the first time in a long time.

Seeing her as a woman.

A woman, who, was shaking like a leaf, rooted to the ground.

Harry walked forward and extended his arms, pausing, unsure. Tentatively, he clasped Hermione in an awkward hug.

"It was for the best, Hermione. I promise, just wait and see."

Hermione never hugged back.

A few days passed after that Sunday, and a few after that. Hermione had tried to forget all about Draco- what they could have been and what they were, but it was impossible.

Instead of acting out the way Draco had, lashing out in a self destructive way, Hermione kept her emotions hidden from her friends, and after she was convinced Harry did not tell Ron about her little secret, she even forgave the boy, if slightly.

It was a strange grief that she experienced.

For moments in the day she felt whole, complete again, as if her friendships, work, and life actually contended her. It was nearly shameful for Hermione, how at moments she forgot his face.

But as soon as Potions started, she saw his shock of blond hair at meals, or heard about him in terms of Quiddich, a new kind of pain- that of longing- gripped her.

Potions class was the worst.

It was a time where Hermione sat just across the aisle from Draco Malfoy. Where she entered class to see him already seated at a desk, she had to force herself to walk past.

Occasionally she would glance at him but he would always be looking down at his work or away from her.

Perhaps that was how he dealt with the pain; silently. Oh how she wanted to take him in her arms, smooth back his blond hair with her hand and kiss his forehead, cradling him.

She thought she heard Harry pipe up with a joke, but Hermione wasn't listening.

That night, sitting in front of the fire, Hermione pondered over why she had been so calm when Draco had suggested her calling it off. Especially since she had blown up at Harry moments before over the same topic.

Perhaps it had seemed more reasonable coming from Draco, because, really, he hadn't truly said they had closed the book on their relationship forever. Perhaps **that **was what Hermione was going on.

That thin hope that their pause might be indefinite… but the wait hurt her so.

He was protecting her; he had done the right thing.

Hadn't he?

.o.o.o.o.

Harry nudged Hermione's arm lightly as she swirled her goblet round and round in her cupped hands.

Hermione looked up, slightly startled by his touch and smiled halfheartedly at him.

He knew she was still sore, hurt, devastated, but he had tried to make up for it.

"You all right Hermione?" He asked, the love in his eyes genuine. Hermione smiled back, the corners of her mouth turned slightly upward, masking her hurt.

She nodded, taking a sip of juice and glancing away from the table, eyes darting round familiar and unfamiliar faces.

She found Draco staring at her, gaze locked with hers for the first time in weeks.

Hermione's blood ran hot.

She couldn't breath, looking at him like that.

In a rush of shame the memories of their moments together flooded her mind- her heart- and she felt a terror grip her.

A fire raged within his gaze, a painful conclusion.

She knew what that meant.

In a last ditch effort to stifle the oncoming storm, Hermione shook her head fractionally left and right.

_No._ She silently pleaded, hoping her words would reach him.

Don't do it.

We'll be fine.

I'll be fine, we'll live.

Its better to live apart then die together, Draco, isn't it?

…isn't it?

But he was beyond her silent pleas and Hermione watched, almost in slow motion, at his fork clattered down into his plate.

* * *

A/n- kind of sad, but don't worry, it wont be like that for long! besides, we need conflict!

Hope I didnt keep you waiting too long - hehe.

2 more to go!

Review!


	21. Praise

A/n- Jeez, you guys get angry when I post a cliffhanger! No need to get all testy, here's the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't have anything witty anymore!

Summary: Cats out of the bag.

* * *

**Jackknifed

* * *

**

Draco's fork clattered onto his plate, pinging off the rim, twirling for a moment on one of its tines before thudding down next to a bowl of fruit.

Balise set his goblet down and glanced at Malfoy, a few others' raising their heads from their breakfast to glare at the interruption.

Draco stood up sharply, pushing back against the table, hitting the back of his knees upon the bench. The force pitched his hips forward against the table. Goblets of honeyed syrup and juice rattled precariously, Malfoy's flute of milk tipping over as his plate crashed into its stem, spilling inky whiteness across the tablecloth in a wide, bloodless stain.

Malfoy's chest felt like it was on fire.

Now a few of the Gryffindors had turned in the seats, craning their heads to look at the Slytherin who was standing stalk still against the table, few followed his gaze.

Hermione's eyes were darting around the Great Hall. She was scared and pushed back from the table, swinging a leg out into the aisle.

Draco's hands gripped the table in a white knuckled clench.

Hermione stood, the only other figure in the Hall to do so, Malfoy being the other. They were heads above the rest, staring wide-eyed at each other. Harry calmly placed his spoon of cereal back onto his plate, resting a hand on Ron's shoulder as if it would stay him. Ron, oblivious, look at Harry with a confused stare and mouthful of muffin, but Harry was looking up at Hermione. Ron followed his gaze.

She was looking at … something. Ron creased his eyebrows and stared, following her gaze to Malfoy against the wall.

"Bloody hell?" He murmured through his food.

Both Draco and Hermione held each other's gaze. A murderous staring contest. Draco winced, hands gripping tighter onto the varnish. For a moment, just a slight moment, his blond lashes quivered, lowering his petal soft gaze a fraction.

Slowly, dreamlike, he blinked.

Connection lost, Hermione bolted, swinging her other leg out and making a break towards the double doors.

For a moment she didn't understand why she was running away, she loved him, after all. But that fear of exposure, of keeping nothing sacred and hidden, had released that flighty adrenaline within her veins and all she saw and needed was escape.

Seeing her pull away distressed Malfoy and he watched almost nonplussed, as she ran. But something within him stirred.

"_Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart._"

Fate.

Love.

He wasn't going to let her go this time, it would be the death of him.

Draco untangled himself from the table and stumbled backwards; making a sudden movement towards the direction Hermione was headed.

Now all eyes were up at watching, a few people's mouths hanging open; audible gasps.

Draco broke out into a half sprint as Hermione ran down the row of tables. He could see her distress, her confusion, like a wild animal trapped in a cage.

He caught her just before the door, a pale hand gripping her left arm and swinging her around.

"Get your hands off her you bastard!" A voice yelled, but no one moved, everyone was still.

"Don't leave." Draco pleaded, softly, yet his voice cut clearly across the room.

Hermione shook under his grasp, turning around to look at him.

"Don't do this." She said, a sob rising in her throat.

"Why?" Draco relaxed his grip on her, noting how hard his fingers were crushing her robe.

She laughed.

"Why?" He asked again and her face became grave.

Neither dared to look around them at the faces of those watching.

"We can't! You said so yourself! They won't understand!"

"Hermione, I'm dying without you!" Draco yelled, his voice cracking a bit at the end, reverberating around the room, hollow. Hermione turned her eyes up to meet his. "I can't do this anymore. I was wrong, Hermione. I was wrong." He swallowed hard, his other hand reaching up to flutter around her waste.

"I love you, Hermione."

A sob without tears escaped the girl's lips.

"I love you, Draco."

It wasn't snowing, he wasn't on his broom, she wasn't leaning out over the Quiddich stands, but it was perfect, all the same.

Pulling Hermione closer, Draco bent slightly at the waist, blond hair sliding forward from behind his ears, covering his mercury eyes. They were only inches apart and Draco felt a breath, a sigh, come up from Hermione, her eyes wide but calm. Draco watched her from behind long eyelashes as he bent his head to hers.

Their lips touched tentatively at first, hesitant, but Hermione leaned into Draco and he was able to wrap his right arm around her shoulder blades, deepening the contact.

Some one at the Slytherin table screamed, not a slow bitten moan, but a high pitched, blood chilling shriek.

A few other murmurs of 'Merlin!' and gasping echoed off the wall, followed by a strangled roar.

Hermione and Draco broke away, looking wildly about, Draco's face heated, Hermione's eyes misty.

Ron was struggling against Harry's grasp as the shorter boy tried to root his friend down to the spot.

"No! No, Harry!" He was yelling, loudly. "I'll kill him! I'll kill the bastard!" He wrenched on Harry's arm while he stood and sent the other boy sprawling against the bench.

Hermione gave a terrified little moan at the sight of her friend, Draco stepping in front of her, his right arm holding her behind him.

Ron had taken out his wand and was barreling up the row of students towards them. Draco fumbled in his cloak, his wand in his right pocket and the arm to draw it out protecting Hermione.

"No, Ron, please." Hermione said, breathless behind him.

"Get away from him Hermione!" Ron growled, feet from them. Harry had picked himself up, running now to hold Ron back, but Ron was on fire.

Draco sneered at them both.

"Not another step, Weasel." Malfoy hissed, voice soft and deadly.

Ron's face was pink, heated, and he watched Draco step forward, shielding Hermione more. This infuriated him.

"Don't you_ protect _her! We protect her! From dark wizard scum like you, Malfoy!"

"Not another word." Draco had his wand out by then and it pointed directly at Ron's chest.

Harry came up from behind. "Ron, it's not worth it." His voice was a warning.

"What! Harry, how can you not be angry!? It's MALFOY!"

"He knew, of course." Draco smiled bitterly.

Ron gaped at him for a second before throwing down his wand and lunging at the blond. Draco raised his, ready to strike but Hermione screamed, looking away. Her sudden noise made him falter and Ron's fist barely missed his side as he twisted to the right.

"I'll kill you!" The boy screamed as he swung another punch.

Hermione moved and Draco went to shield her, the fist connecting and grazing his upper jaw. The hit made Malfoy stumble, overbalance, and fall backwards onto the ground, Hermione under him.

Students all around them were yelling, the teachers bolting up from their seats.

"Stop!" A loud voice boomed over the crowd, and all fell silent, even Ron, who was being held back by a frantic Harry, paused.

Malfoy twisted into a sitting position, off of Hermione, blood trickling down his cheek from a cut under his eye.

Dumbledore held his hands out as he stepped down from the dais in front of the Hall, making his way towards the gaggle of students who had swarmed forward to watch the fight. The sea of heads parted as he stepped through.

Draco was on his knees, holding Hermione's hand as they both stood.

"Deatheaters, Voldemort, werewolves… those I can stand, but Ron- I'd never seen him like that." She was babbling softly, her eyes clear, calculatingly bright. "He would have truly hurt you, Draco."

Malfoy grimaced. He could have taken the Weasel.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, Miss. Granger." The headmaster said calmly as he approached them, his arms resting across his chest. "If you would please accompany me to my office…" He trailed off and watched Draco absently smear the droplet of blood across his cheek. McGonagall and Snape walked up from the staff table. "Now." He added as an afterthought.

"Yes Headmaster." Harry and Hermione said in unison. Malfoy merely nodded, but Ron glared at the floor, his hand smarting.

They walked, Harry in the middle of Ron and Hermione, Draco on Hermione's left. They felt McGonagall and Snape looming over them as Dumbledore lead the way out of the murmuring crowd. Faintly they could hear Pansy howling in pain at the Slytherin table. With each new sob Hermione felt Draco wince beside her.

She reached out to brush his hand, but not take it. Malfoy smiled despite himself.

He could nearly head Snape dying behind him.

"Tongue Ton Toffee." Dumbledore quipped, nearly cheerful. The gargoyles on either side of his office entrance jumped back, the staircase swirling ever upwards.

As they entered, Dumbledore conjured six chairs in a semi circle round his desk, seating himself in the wingback hair behind the oaken table. He gestured for them to sit also, the students doing so, Draco with such a weight that the chair screeched on the floor.

Hermione sat beside him, Harry to her right, Ron to his, McGonagall next and Snape directly across from Malfoy. But Snape didn't sit as he was offered. He merely stood behind the chair, his face livid, staring Malfoy down.

But Draco didn't take the bate, he merely balled his hands up on his knees and sat back, head tilted towards the ceiling.

Oh he felt so tired.

McGonagall's mouth was a mere slit, her eyes glaring.

Personally, Malfoy didn't see what the whole problem was. Just throw Weasel a few detentions and it was over with. Done.

"Now…" Dumbledore said slowly, lacing his fingers together. "What's going on?"

Draco snorted and Ron made a slight grunting noise.

None of the adults were amused.

Dumbledore tried another avenue.

"Since you all clearly have something to prove, as seen this morning at breakfast, and as it seems that Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and myself are presently all ears, you now have a captive audience." He looked at each student in turn over his half moon spectacles.

A long silence followed this statement and Hermione looked as if she was in visible pain.

"Please Sir, we didn't… it wasn't…" She trailed off lamely.

Another pause.

"As it would seem that none of the students are presently wiling to talk, shall I present my own explanation?" Snape hissed, blood soaking his words.

"That's quite all right Severus."

McGonagall was still silent.

"This is madness." Ron blurted after a moment, despairingly. "This is bloody madness." He looked at Hermione, brows knit. "How could you do this? How could you _do_ this?"

Hermione looked at her shoes.

"Don't you dare talk to her like that!" Malfoy leaned dangerously out of his chair. "Like it's shameful, don't you dare!"

"It is!" Ron blurted.

"Oh excellent, we _are_ having a conversation now, aren't we?" Dumbledore clapped his hands together.

"I love her!"

"Rubbish!"

"Ron, shut up." Harry murmured, his face in his hands. "It's not worth it, get over it, it's still _Hermione _She's not eleven anymore, Ron, we can't control her"

Everyone looked at him, Hermione a small smile of gratitude on her face. Ron looked like he was about to cry.

"Thank you… Potter." Malfoy struggled out, but Harry glared at him.

"Go to hell, Malfoy, I don't care about you."

"All right, all right." Dumbledore cut in before things got a little more out of hand and held up a palm. "Mr. Weasley, fifty points from Gryffindor for attacking another student, one week's detention. Minerva, if you could escort Mr. Weasley out."

The witch stood up abruptly and hoisted Ron out of his seat by the shirt collar, pulling him out of the room. Harry gave a weak but encouraging smile to Hermione, reaching over and patting her hand.

"Sorry. " He mouthed, following Ron out.

"Severus, as I see no need to punish Malfoy, you may be excused as well."

Snape looked livid, like he was going to say something. Deciding better of it, he swished out, his cloak bellowing.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, come here." Dumbledore said simply, patting the front of his desk.

Both stood and moved to stand, the Headmaster flicking his wand and Malfoy's scrape disappearing. Draco could feel the magic caress his cheek.

"It is obvious that I cannot hold my surprise regarding these recent events…." Dumbledore rested his chin upon his fingers. "However, I do want to wish you the best of luck and give you my condolences. I do not pretend this will be easy; the prejudices between your houses runs deep, not to mention your particular year's heightened animosity. The Wizarding World's may not be so pleased or ready to accept that Gryffindor's brightest witch and Slytherin's most cunning wizard are now willing to bridge the chasm that has existed for so long between the, if I may be frank, light and dark sides of magic."

Hermione nodded, but Draco only looked away.

"However," He said with a small smile. "I have no doubt you two, if you trust each other, lean on each other, will be able to withstand such a force." His eyes, now, were bright, glittering. His smile grew. "Just remember, you are much stronger together then you are apart. Whatever happens, concerning the war, your peers, your families…" His eyes flickered over Malfoy, who, was now looking directly into the Headmaster's gaze. "You have the power to change your destiny, it is not pre-set by birth or happenstance or blood."

Hermione smiled despite herself, a small pink grin that a child would wear when their Grandfather presented them with something even better then a shiny new toy: praise.

"Thank you, sir." Malfoy breathed, truly meaning it.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his hands shuffling a stack of papers on his desk. His eyes dropped.

"Now, if you two don't mind, I have a particularly nasty bit of paperwork to tend to. Do you both know how many forms I must sign in order to receive approval for that Flesh-Eating Bug Repellent? Ghastly!"

Clearly, that was the cue that he was done, and Hermione and Draco bid thanks to him once again, retreating to the exit.

They stood for a moment facing that door, Dumbledore focused on his papers.

"Are you… will you be alright, Draco?" Hermione asked silently.

Malfoy nodded.

"I won't let them harm you, Hermione." He took her fingers and kissed them.

She smiled.

"Me neither."

They opened the door and stepped out into the landing, breathing in the cold clear air of the hallway, ready to face what the world would throw at them.

* * *

A/n- One more chapter!

I told you it wouldn't be sad for long!

Epilogue coming up next!!

Review! Or I'll make you do my history homework! Anyone up for a five minute presentation on the Soviet Union?

Thought not.


	22. Epilogue: Lamplight

A/n- Read the author's note at the end, its long (so is the chapter). 

Disclaimer: Perhaps not.

Summary: Back to normalcy- whatever that is.

* * *

**Jackknifed **

* * *

From the moment they left Dumbledore's office Hermione and Draco had avoided the rest of the school, choosing to skip out on the whole of their classes. They had decided that their last few moments of sanity should be spent together, alone, exploring how soft each other's lips were.

They knew it wouldn't last long, that silence, and when Hermione had whispered a sweet goodbye to Draco that night in the deserted Entrance Hall, she knew the little paradise they had privately created was now public. She had known it; since that morning, of course, but it wasn't until then it finally struck her.

Draco had told her to be strong.

It was this she repeated to herself as the portrait hole swung open, the noise inside growing quiet.

Be strong.

Hermione clamored into the darkness, the picture closing noiselessly.

Those sitting around the fire paused, those standing around talking ceased to do so, and everyone turned to look at her. Harry, sitting in a crimson wingback next to a large, empty lounge chair, patted its seat comfortingly.

Hermione sighed and walked over, sinking into its plushy softness. She closed her eyes and counted to twenty.

When she opened them again, about a third of the people around them had resumed their previous revel, the others still watching. Harry, however, ignored their looks.

"How are you holding up?" He handed her a mug of something warm and steaming.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "You seem to be taking it better then I am." Taking the mug from him, Hermione sipped at it. Ah, hot water a lemon, her favorite. "Aren't you still angry? You were practically livid this morning."

Now about half ignored her.

Harry chuckled.

"I don't know…" He shook his head. "It was… at breakfast I think- right before the whole fiasco- and, well, I was thinking about how if I was in love with..." He fished around randomly. "Ginny or something, and she were in Slytherin and I really, I mean really loved her… I would expect nothing less then support from you and Ron." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I was being selfish, putting my…" He was about to say 'hate' but could bring himself to do so. "…_reservations_ before your feelings."

Hermione was impressed.

"That's very…noble, Harry." She admitted.

Harry grinned sheepishly, leaning over to pluck the cup out of her hand, take a sip, and replace it. "I do it for you, you know."

Hermione laughed. "Indeed." She let the lighthearted feeling she felt flutter about her brain for a few moments before she became serious. "How's Ron?"

At this Harry looked away.

"He'll get over it." He said finally. "He'll have to, I mean, you _are_ his friend."

"As of nine o'clock this morning I was… now…" Hermione trailed off, looking down into her cup. "Where is he?" 

"Dorm, sulking." Harry sighed, closing his eyes.

For the next few moments Hermione didn't know what to say. What could she say? Her emotions had been toyed with and stretched so violently the past few days- hours- that she didn't know how to sit still anymore.

She needn't have bothered trying to relax, it was impossible with all those eyes on her. Occasionally a friend would come up, usually a girl- Pavarti, Lavender, Ginny- offer their surprising support and kindness, and flit away, as if she would snap at them. After assuring them she would not, the girls stayed a little longer, crouching down on the floor in front.

"Aren't you all angry at me?" Hermione whispered, nonplused, as a seventh year pulled up a chair, a sizable group now surrounding her.

"My brother's an idiot." Ginny grinned, tossing her flaming hair over her shoulder.

"We care about you, Hermione." Luna whispered, looking off into space somewhere above Hermione's head.

"Could be worse." Seamus crowed from a table top nearby. "Could be Goyle."

The group laughed, Hermione a little nervously. Ginny reached out and placed a hand on Hermione's.

"You take what you get, Hermione, and you can't expect to please everyone in the process. Think about it, it could be good for us, you know?" Her face brightened. "Draco could be a spy for Dumbledore." Her eyebrows waggled suggestively.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Gin." Harry said, shaking his head. "We can't trust Malfoy." That earned a look from Hermione. "I mean, I trust you, Hermione, of course! But just because _you're_…fond… of him doesn't mean _I_ have to be. He's still a prat."

Much of the continued conversation was similar to Harry's statements.

We trust you, Hermione. Just not Lucius Malfoy's son.

We support you.

How could we ever be mad at you, Hermione?

Finally, after a first year girl none of them seemed to know sat down and promptly asked 'Is snogging a Slytherin the same as snogging Gryffindor?' Harry had kindly excused himself, a broad smile on his lips, declaring this time as 'women's talk'. But in fact, many of the boys had crowded around as well, asking in serious hushed tones if now, being Malfoy's new 'girlfriend', Hermione had leaned any secret Slytherin Quiddich tactics

Hermione was ecstatically stunned at the warmth her fellow Gryffendor's were giving her; surprised they took the news so well. But really, the Gryffindor house was all about friendship, love, loyalty to the end no matter what, and it was at that moment, when she realized that perhaps kinship _was_ worth as much as intimacy, that Neville asked the most thought provoking question of the night:

"Does this mean Malfoy's on our side now?"

Hermione laughed at his words. "What side is that?"

"You know…" He trailed off, cheeks pink. "The good one?"

Someone clasped the boy on the back and the group dissolved into late-night euphoric giggles.

.o.o.o.o.

Although Draco had expected something a little less then a glorious 'Welcome Home' party, the animosity he received as the stone snake statue slid shut behind him was staggering.

Draco glared malevolently, absorbing the hate around him and letting it ricochet off and onto his fellows.

It seemed as if the whole house was there waiting for him; lounging on the sofas or loitering near the fire.

Blaise made a motion to stand, his weight pinned against the arm of an oversized chair, a pained look on his face. As the last moment he seemed to think better of it, standing up only to turn away.

He was the only movement in the room.

Pansy could be heard howling in the girl's dormitory.

Malfoy folded his arms over his chest, a sneer curling his lips. They couldn't do this; he was like their god, a pure Slytherin god.

"What?" He drawled, cocking an eyebrow. An older boy, seventh year, approached him, shoulders broad and towering. He glared down at Malfoy.

"You're a disgrace, _Malfoy_." He spat the words.

"Don't talk to me like-"

"We'll talk to yu' as we see fit." Someone with a Scottish brogue lashed out. "Yur daddy aint' here to protect yu' no more, yu' blood traitor."

Draco clenched his fits within the sleeves of his robes.

"Step aside." He growled; a low feral sound.

No one moved, everyone continued to stare at him.

"Step aside." He repeated, no less dangerous.

The tall seventh year did move, but not particularly far, and Draco had to turn his shoulder in order to get by, heading directly to his room. He did not make eye contact with those huddled around him.

They all murmured as he passed, throwing biting jibes and abject death wishes, cursing him.

They were silenced by the banging of the dormitory door slamming shut and everyone looked around with a mob like fervor. But before the philosophical pitchforks and torches could be scrounged up, Blaise cleared his throat, gathering everyone's attention.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for all of this…" As he trailed off another one of Pansy's screeches echoed throughout the room.

The students winced.

.o.o.o.o.

The scuffle that morning seemed to shake off the student's winter downs, readying them for the bright new spring, as if the Slytherin-Gryffindor romance rekindled Hogwarts collective frosty dormancy.

For it was the dripping end of winter, five months before end of term, and at the start of classes that following morning, it was crystal clear that the last day of June would not come soon enough.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered Potions earlier then usual, Harry acting as a living buffer between his two friends, seating himself between them at the long table.

Hermione sighed, pulling a plump bran muffin out of her school bag, tearing off a piece to shove in her mouth, reviewing last night's homework in her head. She paused, her forehead creasing as she tried to remember what Wormwood would react with in order to do... something.

Harry sighed, stretching back against his chair.

This really was boring, sitting here. Usually they chatted in order to use up their free time before class; loitering in the Great Hall or in the Common Room. But with Ron and Hermione not speaking to each other… well, _Ron_ not speaking, they had nothing to do.

Five minutes later the rest of the class filed in, minus one Slytherin.

Draco, now back to his full ten hours of sleep and long indulgent breakfast would be late, per usual, nothing new.

Hermione smiled absently at his empty seat and a few other Slytherin boys cast weary glances to one another.

They weren't going to be subjected to those 'intimate looks' the new couple would be sending across the room, would they?

_Surely_ not.

The door to the Potion's masters' study creaked open without its usual banging noise, Snape gliding into the room with no less menace but without his overbearing evilness.

He seemed genuinely tired.

Opening his mouth to speak, his neck thrown back in order to sweep the hair out of his face, Snape paused before opening the text he had in his hands.

He stopped short as the door to the class opened.

Hermione and the rest of the students twisted their bodies around to watch Malfoy walk to his seat. Normally, no one would even give a side ways glance; he was always late like this. But it was the first time since yesterday that everyone had seen him.

Draco did not acknowledge the looks, but he did smirk slightly, locking his eyes with Hermione's. She blushed and turned back in her seat.

Round the time Hermione had admitted, to herself anyway, that she had loved Draco, she also realized that their relationship, if there was to be one, would be one of little outward affection. In private, Draco may tuck her hair behind her ear, call her Hermione, let his hand flutter round her waist and down her back, but in public, it was the little sidelong glances and cocky grins that were the only notices Hermione received; save those rare smiles.

Strangely, Hermione found it particularly enchanting, that notion, like the true Draco was saved just for her.

"Mr. Malfoy." Snape clipped, biting off the end of his words as if they slipped dangerously past his teeth. He watched as Draco slumped in his chair, hiking his shoes up on the desk's crossbeam. Snape sneered and flicked his wand, Draco's feet magically dropping with a thud onto the ground.

"Professor-"

Snape laid his hands firmly upon the desk Malfoy was seated at, leaning in, his hooked nose inches away from his student's face.

"Mr. Malfoy." He seethed. "Do not, ever, be late for my class again." The room was deathly silent. "I expect you to take notes, turn in your homework, and…pay attention!" As he said these last two words he slammed his hand down on the desk with each syllable.

Draco's eyes went wide with poorly controlled shock and then to a glare of malice.

"Yes, Professor." He hissed.

Snape's eyes widened. "Speak up, Mr. Malfoy!"

"Yes, Sir!"

However awkward and, if possible, increasingly difficult Potions would become as school inevitably died down, it became the class in which some of the more poignant events would occur.

It was there that Draco made the most progress in terms of loyalties and duties after clearly falling from grace concerning his Head and House. Now, he turned his homework in on time, usually having done it in Hermione's company the night before. Now, he was early to class, chatting animatedly with her, a little ways off from Harry and Ron, who, was still silent. Draco had even made a motion to amend past wrongs, if barely, by nodding his head only once towards Harry when he walked over to speak to Hermione.

"Potter." Was all he said, yet it was the fact that nothing else came out of his mouth like 'how's our Golden Boy this morning?' or 'how are you and the Weasel doing?' that was the most surprising.

Hermione had asked him if it was the fact that she was friends with Harry which made Draco less irritable.

Malfoy had only smiled, saying, "I hate him." Hermione opened her mouth but Draco cut her off. "Only, I would prefer not to pick a fight with you there."

But it stemmed from more then just that, Hermione thought, a kind of loneliness that even Hermione couldn't yet tap within the boy.

Yes, there were very much in love with each other. Yes, he relied on her much more then he had any other; but there was that inherent comradely that, being a woman, Hermione could not win over. Draco needed those in which he could commiserate with. He was being denied that.

Perhaps that was why, when the Slytherin house carried out a bloodless coup d'état one morning and forced Draco to give up his seat at the head of the Slytherin table- Draco had stepped down with an air of slight relief, as if he knew it was coming and was glad it had passed without much incident- that he sat not in the back of the table, on the last seat in the row, bunched up next to the stone wall, but round the other side, next to the Gryffindor's and just across the aisle from where Hermione was eating.

Hermione felt that, as much as Draco's hatred for everything red and gold ran deep, the animalistic nature to 'run with one's own kind' was stronger, and she was sure he was attempting, if not unconsciously, to connect to a group from which he had been so struck against.

Apart from Draco's changes in class, Potions also served as a springboard for Hermione during the last few months of class. The last day of April Hermione, Harry, and Ron were seated around a sizable cooking cauldron, Hermione stirring it with vivacious fervor. Each silent for separate reasons: Harry because he was reading the potions' recipe, Hermione because she was concentrating on stirring, and Ron because he was Ron.

Harry and Hermione had become quite accustomed to Ron's lack of noise within Hermione's presence. Only once had Hermione asked Harry if he ever _did_ speak.

"He does, but he never talks about… it, you know."

That was nearly three months back.

Now, the awkwardness and novelty of the situation had worn off and the silence was but a comfortable custom.

"Harry, pass me the… the vial of pixy wings."

Hermione looked down into the cauldron with an expression of calm patience, her hand out awaiting the vial. She grinned as she felt the cold glass in her palm.

"Thanks Harry-" She began, but stopped as she looked up. Ron was pressing the instrument into her hot palm, not Harry, who now looked up with an unreadable look.

"Oh, thanks Ron." Hermione whispered, taking the bottle for herself. Ron said nothing but nodded- the first acknowledgement he had given her in months.

Hermione could hardly contain herself.

She had laughed and wept simultaneously after class had been let out.

.o.o.o.o.

Draco lounged back against the steps of the Hogwarts Castle, the sun bleeding over the darkening sky.

It was June thirtieth then, the last he would see of Hogwarts before the start of term in September; they were to board the trains in forty-five minutes to go back to platform Nine and Three Quarters.

As Blaise belted out the punch line of his joke, Malfoy pitched his head forward to laugh, his elbows resting against the stone and his ankles crossed, bleach blond hair crackling lightning in the sun. Hermione had given his hair a trim a few weeks ago, complaining somewhat sweetly about its length. It was hard for Draco to adjust to the way his hair didn't quite hang the way it had. But, he had to admit, she had been right, it was starting to look as scraggly as Weasley's.

Draco grinned, Blaise laughing at himself.

It had surprised Draco how distant the other boy had become and this pained him a little more then Draco would admit, especially when Zabini would only talk or acknowledge him if no one else was around. Draco realized that, as summer progressed and Zabini had time to reflect and think- or to be told what to think by his Deatheater father- about "what kind of a disgrace the Malfoy boy had become", even that little thread of friendship would be severed.

So Draco enjoyed what he had of it.

A small noise made the boys turn and they saw Hermione walking down the steps towards them.

Blaise bristled and stood sharply, embarrassed. Draco continued to lounge on the stone and let a lazy smile tilt across his lips.

"Hello Blaise." Hermione smiled, arms clasped across her front, over her textbook.

"Er- ah, uh… see you, mate." He blurted out, promptly stalking off.

Draco didn't have the heart to say goodbye, as if his silence ensured that what he had just experienced was not the last time he would see Blaise like that: calm and unguarded.

Hermione laughed, her voice carrying on the warm breeze.

Draco smiled.

Draco's birthday had been twenty-four days previous and it was then that he had set down his gift, his only gift, to look Hermione deep in the eyes and say in a breathless rush that he loved her laugh, as she had laughed when seeing his face at the unwrapped Dragon hide wallet on his lap. Would she promise to always laugh like that? Like he was the only one to hear it?

Hermione had.

"Ready?" She asked, putting the book into her bag. Draco nodded and got up, dusting off his muggle jeans.

The train was leaving soon.

The pair walked to the Hogsmead platform, Hermione able to find her friends quickly in the hustle and bustle around them. Chatting with Harry and Ron, who now spoke in more then simple monosyllabic sentences, she told them that she would be back soon and to ask them not to forget to save her a seat in a compartment and… perhaps they could save seats for two?

Ron looked livid but Harry assured her that they would whilst sending a rueful glance over Hermione's shoulder. Malfoy stood back a little behind her, arms crossed, gaze directed at something up and across the platform.

As the train bellowed up a cloud of white smoke, Hermione and Draco clamored onto the train amidst the many students and Hagrid's jovial yells. They didn't follow Ron or Harry to a compartment but walked to the back of the last car, pulling open the sliding partition to the outdoor landing.

They had both agreed to the need of fresh air and that they had to have a last look back at Hogwarts as they pulled out of the station. They needed to, as if it closed a chapter of their life only to open a new one.

Many of the residents of Hogsmead lined the station to see the students off. Even some of the faculty were there. First Years and Sixth Years alike leaned out their compartment to wave goodbye. Hermione thrust herself against the iron railing of the landing and waved to Hagrid and a few of the Professors. They smiled back and Draco smiled too, his arm slipping round her.

"I'll be right back." He whispered into the shell of her ear after the station became a little dot against the darkened sky, Hermione unable to distinguish between who was waving and what was a building.

Hermione nodded as Draco left, leaning forward to rest her arms on the iron, a sigh falling easily from her lips.

She felt the train move underneath her. The noise of the engine, the tracks, and the creaking compartments sounded like sweet music to Hermione; the music of life, her real life, the life away from classes and textbooks, where she could flourish as a witch and as a woman.

Such a peaceful and rejuvenating melody; Hermione let it lull her for a few long minutes.

"Don't fall asleep." A low voice murmured.

Hermione smiled and closed her eyes; feeling like drifting off would actually be quite pleasant.

Draco reached around to place a cup of Pumpkin juice in Hermione's hand, his palms gripping the iron rail on either side of her. She could feel his body pressed against hers and shyed away as his breath tickled her ear, his chin resting against her shoulder.

He had brought back only one cup from the trolley to share between them as they watched the country side turn. For a fleeting moment they saw the turrets of Hogwarts wink in and out of sight behind a few poplar trees and hillocks. Gradually, like all things, the school faded into purple clouds; gone.

The couple was silent then, as if scared to breath. Away from school, with the wide world around them, could they count on Dumbledore's words? Did he really have faith in them, or was it unfounded?

When Hermione gave to a sudden chill, her shoulders twitching and gooseflesh rising, Draco cupped her upper arms within his hands and held her closer.

"Are you excited or scared?" Draco ventured, his brows creased as he looked out over the hills rolling by, unsure if he was asking Hermione or asking himself the question.

"A little of both I suppose." Hermione smiled, not looking at him. "I mean, another year here and gone."

Draco nodded in agreement, absently twisting round his Slytherin ring round with his fingers.

"I…" He started, and Hermione turned around in his arms to look at him. Draco pulled back and slipped the emerald encrusted band off his finger and into his palm. "I want you to have this, Hermione."

It hadn't been like he planned it out or anything, it was just something he was suppose to do, wasn't it? Present a token of his love…

"I- ah, isn't that an heirloom or something?" Hermione was sent a slight skew with the sudden gesture.

"I don't care, take it." It surprised Draco that he meant it.

"Draco-"

"Hermione?"

Hermione smiled at Draco's boyish look and shook her head, pushing the ring away from her. She noted with a thrill the brightness of his checks in the dusk.

"I don't need a ring to know how much you love me. A memento is completely dissatisfying without the wearer accompanying it. Besides, if you give me that ring I will become too complacent with the mere memory of you, the ring taking your place. I will not allow myself that. I want to be selfish. How else will I keep you from forgetting to write this summer?"

Draco shook his head.

"You're always so damn logical."

Hermione laughed. "That ring doesn't symbolize us."

Malfoy paused, looking at the, quite frankly, ugly twist of metal in his hand. It was so organic and roughly hewn, tragic almost, the way the snake circled around itself, its mouth hooked round its tale in never ceasing, perpetual cannibalism.

Bitterly Malfoy thought of how, instead of it symbolizing their love, it symbolized the Slytherin downfall: waging war on itself, becoming willing outcasts, forever engaged in never ceasing, perpetual social cannibalism.

Why in Merlin's name would he want that life?

"You know, Hermione, It doesn't symbolize me either, come to think of it." Draco smiled terribly, a kind of sad little grimace. "I am no longer a Slytherin by trait but by mere classification. I shouldn't be wearing this anymore, it's not who I am."

It was ironic, almost, that what seemed like a lifetime ago, that ring had bent open the bottlecaps that had consumated Draco and Hermione's relationship. Draco's smile widened. That's all it was good for, too, a _bottle opener_, and Draco would be damned if he wanted it to be anything but that.

Hermione said nothing as Draco laid the silver snake against his thumb and forefinger, pausing a moment only to flick the band out the back of the train.

It shone for a moment in the train's lamplight, a silver drop of rain in the clear night, turning over and over again to drop out of sight along the tracks.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Hermione said, as if she were simply asking what the answer was to a homework question.

Draco cracked a lopsided grin, turning his attention back to the girl in his arms.

"How much?"

Hermione set down her Pumpkin juice.

"I'll give you three guesses." She joked as he leaned down to capture her sugar sweetened lips with his own.

"Only three?"

* * *

**Fin **

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So, this is the part where I insert a horridly long author's note- for those who do not want possible sequel info, please skip down to the review box at the bottom of your screen.

For the rest of you…

AHHHHHH! WE MADE IT! I'm so happy (well, kinda sad that it's over) but mostly happy! I am so surprised I did not get bored with this, a trap I fall into regularly regarding most of my fics (see, you didn't know you were being lead by a ticking time bomb of inconsistency, did you?). Well, I enjoyed writing it as much as you enjoyed reading it.

They why, you ask, stop? Good question.

I _am _outlining a sequel to Jackknifed, one taking place at the end of seventh year and loosely based on events in the HBP (meaning major stuff like Dumbledore's death/the Order will happen but other information will be tweaked to fit the story).

Also, it will be much more plot based, Draco centric, and will not be based solely on romance, but on romance/love/friendship/ & trust enduring through hardship.

Anyway, thanks for reading and hop over to the next chapter for a preview of the sequel!!

And remember, just because this story is over, doesn't mean I don't like reviews for it!!!

Love to all,

Lena


	23. The Second Installment

Draco Malfoy, a foot in both the Deatheaters' camp and Dumbledore's army, begins to pull away from the life he has been groomed to lead and embraces a family he never dreamed he could have.

Will be he able to start anew?

Or will the ghosts of his pasts continue to haunt him?

The seventh year is starting…

But this year will fly by in the blink of an eye.

Ron's poisoning…

Harry's meetings…

Dumbledore's secrets…

They all culminate in an event at end of term in which love will be tested, truths will be revealed, and lives will be lost.

And it doesn't stop there.

Don't miss the exciting sequel to Jackknifed!

**The Other Side of Fate**

Chapter one up now!

Now here's a sneak peek:

From somewhere above, Malfoy could hear the wind crash against the walls of the castle, rattling the windows and sending a chill down through its hallways.

The brackets into which torches were held barred chilled wind as the long wicks flickered, nearly dying as their red flame dipped low against the wax. Red turned flame blue as the heat was whisked away by the breeze.

Malfoy's wand, held close against his chest, was steady; its tip pointed a fraction out in front of him.

A sudden chill swept the dark hall and goose bumps raised upon his flesh.

Draco wished he hadn't left his cloak back in the Gryffindor Common Room, safely wrapped round his usual dozing spot by the fire, but there it sat. Musing, Draco noted how particularly cold it was at this time of night.

The _cold…_

Draco ran a hand through his pale hair.

He had more pressing things to think about then the _cold._

Something had been making his hair stand on end for months- the whole year even, and this was probably the only time he would be able to investigate.

Malfoy kept his back against the stone wall, his body pressed against it as he slowly followed the sounds of softly padding feet down into the dungeons of the castle.

There was no turning back now, he was bound to figure this whole thing out sometime, he just had to bite the bullet and take the plunge.

Grudgingly, _very _grudgingly, Malfoy wished Potter would hurry back from his fool's errand with Dumbledore. As much as he had grown close to the boy, if whatever kind of thin trust there was could be called 'closeness', Draco was still reluctant to admit he needed help.

Still, he would have liked to have a little more wand power- other than just himself- if anything should happen.

He certainly wouldn't have asked Weasel to come; he had enough problems to deal with.

With Harry gone and Ron dismissed as a possible companion, Hermione would certainly had accompanied him, but that would have been stupid and Draco knew it.

If this… thing was dangerous, if what was going to happen would put him in harms way, then Hermione had to be kept out of it for as long as possible, she had to be protected.

Draco stopped short as he realized the footsteps he had been following had ceased. A breath shuttered from within his chest as adrenaline coursed through him, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

Slowly, Malfoy inched forward along the hallway to a cracked door. Hollow sounds echoed from within the room and out into the hallway, spilling darkness.

Draco sucked in a deep breath from between his clenched teeth and lunged forward, throwing open the door to the class room; it swung back against its hinge with a bang and the a pitch blackness emanated from within.

Squinting, Malfoy peered into the room, his wand lowering a fraction as he leaned farther in.

With a brilliant light, the room illuminated, blinding Draco momentarily, his hand not holding the wand flew up to cover his grey eyes.

As the room dimmed, Draco's eyes adjusted. Slowly, his hand dropped, and Malfoy peered over his palm.

He froze.

It wasn't the pure whiteness of the room that had stunned him.

It wasn't the large oak cabinet erected in the center of the floor, rattling loudly, that had caught him off guard.

It was that, standing next to the cabinet, in the whitewashed room, was a figure leaning against the wood- one hand on the handle of the cupboard and the other on his wand, his silver white hair shinning and pale blue eyes staring.

A smirk crossed the thin lips of the lounging figure, a dangerous gleam reflecting in his cold eyes.

Draco couldn't speak..

He couldn't breath.

Draco Malfoy was staring at Draco Malfoy.

"No…" Was all that issued from Draco's parted lips as the counterfeit Malfoy raised his wand.

"Imperio!"

And the world dissolved.


End file.
